


Wild and Wonderful

by Mystical_Magician



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Stephen Strange, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Childhood Friends, Fairy Tale Retellings, Getting Together, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Omega Tony Stark, Royalty, attempted forced bonding, donkeyskin au, not between Tony and Stephen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28397544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Magician/pseuds/Mystical_Magician
Summary: A regent seeks a certain legitimacy in his bid for the crown.An omega prince, so near to taking his throne, flees a forced bonding in his impossible suit of armor.A master sorcerer who does not advertise his true title meets a foreign blacksmith and grows intrigued.
Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 20
Kudos: 216
Collections: IronStrange Gift Exchange 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WillowTailBreeze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowTailBreeze/gifts).



> Here’s the first part of my gift exchange fic for WillowTailBreeze! I took your prompt for Omega Tony and Alpha Stephen, and it turned into a self-indulgent monster. I probably could have pared the first part down quite a bit, but I couldn’t bring myself to delete all of that time and effort and words. I’m still finishing up the second part, but it should be out in less than a week ~~please don’t let me be lying~~ , and should be more interesting than this setup. It will also contain a lot more Stephen.
> 
> This fic is inspired by the fairytale, Donkeyskin. It’s probably not anything like what you imagined, WillowTailBreeze, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

_People are going to betray you the way  
_ _Judas betrayed Jesus,  
_ _the way Brutus betrayed Caesar,  
_ _and you will love them anyway._

_And betrayal comes  
_ _in so many different shapes and forms.  
_ _No one ever tells you  
_ _how death too  
_ _is a form of betrayal._

_How life too betrays you  
_ _by robbing you of the person  
_ _you depend on, your soulmate._  
…

**-Nikita Gill, “The Stepmother’s Tale”**

_It had been easy for Tony to give his minders the slip. It wasn’t like anyone paid much attention to him anyway, not unless they wanted something from him. And his tutors were all old and boring. They all seemed to think he was stupid or something, too. Just because he was little._

_But he could forget all of that for the moment, because the sun was shining, the weather was warm, and he just wanted to be outside._

_Not that he had anyone to play with. But he’d gotten very good at entertaining himself._

_As he tromped through the far end of the orchard where it met the forest, however, Tony was having second thoughts. He wasn’t scared! It was just…quieter than he expected, away from the hustle and bustle of the castle residents. And he was never sure whether the rustling he heard was the wind, or an animal, or someone else. His parents and Obie, and all of his boring tutors warned him all the time about people that would want to hurt him. Because he was important and powerful, and his parents were even more important and powerful, and they’d use him to get some of that for themselves. Or hurt him just because they could. Because they wanted revenge. Because they were bad._

_Something big rustled then. Up in a tree. He yelped and jumped back, tripping and falling to the ground just as a branch snapped right above where he had stood. A small body dropped down with it, with a shout of surprise, or maybe fear._

_Tony’s eyes grew even wider because that person fell noticeably slower than the branch did, and seemed to hover for an instant before dropping the last foot to the grass._

_It was a boy. About his age, maybe, with dark messy hair and well-worn clothing not nearly as fine as even his play clothes. Before he could decide what to do, the other boy had scrambled to his feet, panting._

_“You’re magic!” Tony blurted out. And then clasped his hands over his mouth like he’d said a bad word. His father hated magic. He’d even made more laws against it, and there’d already been plenty of laws like that. Tony had been shouted at and struck behind closed doors when he had dared to ask why. He’d just been curious, not argumentative or disagreeable. But his father hardly cared._

_“Am not!” the other boy argued immediately, narrowing his eyes._

_Tony was not used to being contradicted by people his own age. Especially not when he knew he was right. Though he really only knew noble children whose parents were very stern about them getting along with the crown prince._

_He pushed himself to his feet. “Are too!”_

_“I’m not!” the boys shouted, baring his teeth and tackling Tony back to the ground. “I’m not, I’m not, I’m not!” His small hands clenched the front of Tony’s tunic and shook him a bit, but he didn’t actually hit him. Nor did he let Tony up, no matter how wildly he struggled and flopped about. “Don’t you dare say that to anyone or I’ll…I’ll…”_

_“I’m not going to say anything,” the young prince protested._

_That gave the other boy pause. “Well, good,” he said. “Because…because I woulda cursed you so you couldn’t anyway.”_

_“You said you weren’t magic.”_

_“Whether or not I was, nobody would care. They’d just decide I was if you said something.”_

_Tony scowled. “I can’t help if I’m the prince either.”_

_The boy blinked. He had pretty blue eyes that changed to green when he sat back. Tony had never seen eyes that changed before. Or maybe he just hadn’t paid enough attention._

_“Doesn’t matter if you’re a prince. People believe what they want to, and anyone blamed for magic is always suspicious whether or not it’s true.” He paused. “You’re the prince?” He looked Tony up and down as the boy beneath him propped himself up on his elbows. “I guess your clothes are fancy enough,” he said doubtfully. “But I thought you were taller. Or maybe older.”_

_Tony jerked himself from under him, offended, and scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off. “I’m going to be plenty taller! And I bet I’m older than you. Who are you, anyway?”_

_“I’m Stephen,” he replied as he stood. “My family and I came with the trading caravan. My dad’s a merchant. They’re still in-ven-to…in-ven-tor…ing stuff. It’s boring. So I thought I’d explore.”_

_“What were you doing up a tree?” Tony asked._

_Stephen shrugged. “Thought I saw a nest, so I wanted to see if there were any baby birds. It was empty, though, and then I saw you coming. Then the branch broke.”_

_Reminded of the magic incident, Tony started getting excited. “How did you do that, anyway? Did you learn flying magic? Or…or time magic, or weight magic? What kind of magic is there? How many kinds? How do you know you have magic? How do you do magic? Did you get a tutor for it?”_

_“Tutor?” Stephen interrupted, wrinkling his nose. “How would we afford a tutor, stupid?”_

_Tony deflated. “’M not stupid,” he mumbled with a scowl. “I’m a genius, actually. At building things. And someday I’m going to be king so…so I’m not stupid. I know lots of things. Just…just not things like magic or living with a caravan.”_

_“Sorry,” Stephen said uncomfortably. “I shouldn’t have called you stupid. It’s not like I know…like, prince things or anything.” He paused. “Am I supposed to bow? Or something?” he asked reluctantly._

_Tony was tempted, but, “Nah. If it’s not a court function or something, then you don’t need to with me.”_

_Stephen scoffed. “What would I be doing somewhere like that?” He grinned. “I guess I’m never bowing to you after all.”_

_Tony shoved him, playing at offense. But his chest was warm. Was this what making a friend felt like? Was Stephen a friend now? Some of the books said that friends teased each other and kept secrets._

_Oh, but he hadn’t said the words. “I promise that I won’t ever tell anyone that you have magic,” he said, abruptly solemn. “I swear.”_

_Stephen paused. “Okay. I believe you.” He looked around. “But if we’re gonna talk about something secret then we should get further away.” He grabbed Tony’s hand and towed him further into the trees._

_Tony beamed, and not just because Stephen was willing to answer his questions._

*

Tony woke slowly and blinked up at the stone ceiling of his tower bedroom, illuminated by starlight shining dimly through his thin tunic. He had shoved down the blankets in his sleep, his body too warm despite the chill night air. Not because of nightmares for once. Though he might have preferred that to his oncoming heat.

He so rarely dreamed of his childhood friend these days. Sometimes he still had trouble dealing with that bittersweet pain.

For the next five years, Stephen had traveled to Tony’s kingdom with his family, staying for two to three months before moving on along their trading route. It had been the highlight of Tony’s year, and he eagerly looked forward to escaping his watchers and running wild with his friend. They traded stories and played games. Tony would tell him all about his ideas on building things and forging things, even though he was too young to actually work in a forge. Even if he wasn’t a prince.

And every chance they had, they’d hide in the trees away from people and experiment with Stephen’s magic. Honestly, thinking back, it was a miracle that they hadn’t been caught at it.

Tony whined and turned over to curl up on his side. His eyes watered, and he clenched them shut, his emotions far too close to the surface in his pre-heat. The first year Stephen and his family didn’t return, he had been too distracted to notice for quite some time. That was the year he had presented – not as the preferred beta, nor even as an alpha, which his father might have grudgingly accepted. But as an omega.

Bad enough that the alpha and omega genders tended to indicate magical aptitude, and were certainly looked down on in a kingdom where magic was outlawed. But to be a weak, submissive omega?

His first heat had been painful, and his father’s disappointment and disgust had only compounded things. If Howard had any other children, no doubt Tony would have been disinherited. Frankly, Tony was surprised that he hadn’t been paraded about for marriage, so that a spouse more powerful and capable in his father’s eyes would sit on the throne.

But then, maybe Howard’s need for control and pride in his royal blood had prevented it. Tony might be a disappointment, but he was a direct descendant and heir.

Or maybe his parents had been assassinated before his marriage could be arranged.

He’d had another handful of years with them, enough for his father to cement just how inferior his presentation made him, before he’d lost them. Many of the other nobles and castle residents had picked up his father’s attitude, though they at least tried to hide it behind the veneer of respect demanded by his position. It was disheartening and sometimes infuriating. Tony took to avoiding them and his responsibilities, hiding out in his private forge and workspace where he could take refuge in his mind, in his creations and regrets.

That first year, as soon as Tony had regained some sort of equilibrium, he’d realized that Stephen was very late. That traders had arrived but Stephen’s family was not among them. The prince had sent out inquiries immediately, trying not to show just how desperately worried he was.

He received news of an attack on the caravan, taking place only weeks before Stephen would have seen Tony. It was presumed that Stephen was dead with his parents and a number of other merchants, though no one had identified his body. And despite Tony clinging irrationally to hope, he was eventually forced to accept that none of the survivors had identified themselves as Stephen either.

If his best friend had survived, surely he would have sent word. Even if he didn’t come in person.

Heartbroken, Tony had alternated between shutting himself away in his rooms, and carousing recklessly through the city. Not even his father’s anger could temper him, and he’d been sent away before he could make an even bigger disgrace of himself.

Much as he hated to admit it, the distance had helped. The pain had dimmed, wounds scabbing over, and he’d been determined to shield himself from ever hurting like that again. Maybe if he pretended not to care, it would become a reality.

Maybe if he stopped wondering what Stephen would have been like, if he’d kept visiting. What he would have become. If they could have been two omegas nesting together. If Stephen had found a magic healer to apprentice to, as he had always wanted. If his unusually intense study habits were indicative of a beta, despite his magical talent.

Over time Tony had made other friends, of course. But Stephen was his first. His closest. Before he’d learned that he needed to guard himself, to not feel too much or be too trusting. To not give too much of himself away.

Not that he’d done a very good job of it, in the end. Else he wouldn’t be in this position.

He’d been happy that Obie had taken over as regent when his parents died. Tony had been just old enough that he probably could have been crowned if he’d really pushed for it. But he didn’t want it. If he could delay taking full responsibility for his country, then so be it. He was going to exhaust himself enough in the future, fighting against omega bias. Here was someone competent with a solid claim for regency ready to give him that break in the interim.

More the fool him.

With a groan, Tony ignored his discomfort and pushed himself upright. There was no time to throw himself a pity party. His heat was only days away. If he didn’t escape soon…

He shuddered. Part anger, part disgust.

Sometimes he really fucking hated being an omega.

Thankfully, he was very nearly finished with his means of escape, and he couldn’t even begin to describe how grateful he was to Captain Rhodes and Jarvis. They’d risked themselves to smuggle tools and travel rations to him beneath the nose of Obie and his guards.

If only Pepper were still here, perhaps he wouldn’t have to go to such drastic lengths to escape. With her political power, bloodline, and connections, not to mention her friendship with the crown prince, she might have been able to interfere with Obadiah’s scheme. Gain time to raise awareness and rally the nobility not on Obadiah’s side. The majority wouldn’t support what was essentially a coup.

What else could this be called? To force a bonding with your omega godson would be monstrous enough. And Tony just so happened to be the only heir to an empty throne. You’d have to be an idiot to think that Tony would have any say in himself as an individual after forced bonding, never mind his kingdom.

Or, if worst came to worst, Pepper could have bonded with him instead. They were friends. It…it wouldn’t have been bad. But obviously that wasn’t a risk Obadiah was willing to take. Whatever pretense had drawn Pepper back to her estate, it had been timed just right. By the time she realized something was wrong – by the time any nobles not in Obie’s pocket did – it would be too late.

Tony shuddered at the thought of Obadiah’s hands on him. This wasn’t his annual true heat. That wasn’t for another half year. But even the milder monthly heats that lasted only a couple of days allowed for bonding. It just meant that Tony would be completely lucid throughout. Would remember everything, could fight back mostly unhindered by instincts, and still his body would betray him when he was overpowered.

A surge of disgust and terror had him jolting off the bed and dashing for the suit of armor hidden in a corner of his room. It wouldn’t happen. Tony would _not_ let it happen.

And he’d use Obadiah’s failed attempts at blocking his path to the throne to do it. How was that for poetic justice?

Tony couldn’t even remember now why he’d thought it was a good idea to accept a bet with his crown as the stakes. But he’d passed the first two of three impossible challenges with flying colors, creating a weapon as powerful as the sun, and another as strong as the moon. The third had been created of necessity in captivity, a weapon of the stars housed in his chest to save his life. When Tony had escaped his kidnappers and would-be assassins, Obadiah had apparently taken it as a sign that his mind would be more useful chained to him while churning out weapons for his kingdom, unmatched by any others. A future reign of conquest.

Tony had seen enough death. Been the cause of much of it, too, though unknowingly. He’d die if he had to, before letting it continue.

Luckily – or foolishly, in Obie’s case – when he had been locked up in his tower, he’d been left with all three of his impossible creations, and the tools his friends and allies had smuggled to him. Only this time he would build, would merge them into something that wasn’t a weapon, but a means of defense. Of escape.

An impossible suit of armor.

The sky was just beginning to glow with the pre-dawn light by the time Tony made the very last of the adjustments to his armor. He squeezed it into its hidden nook, careful of the metal plates that still glowed dully with heat, and then sat back to admire it. Streaks of gold swirled through the predominantly silver metal, and in the center of the chest piece was a starburst fitted to the glowing gem embedded in his breast.

It was very flashy, of course. Which was why he could only wear it at night, when it was harder to see and fewer people were about.

Tony couldn’t wait to test it out. Though he would have preferred it to be under better circumstances.

He yawned and peeled off his heavy work gloves and sweat-soaked tunic. Using the basin of tepid water in the washroom and a mostly clean towel, he gave himself a quick scrub and flopped into his bed. Tonight. He’d sleep through the day, and then he could flee at last.

*

Something woke him up. Something that wasn’t one of the servants with a tray of food.

Tony didn’t feel like opening his eyes. He was overheated again, and achy. But his instincts were also on edge, so he tried to make himself more alert.

His heart skipped a beat and his eyes shot open. That was a very familiar scent, and there was someone sitting on his bed.

Tony’s vision was obscured by the collection of blankets and pillows he’d arranged into a nest. He’d either done that in his sleep, or when he was so tired his memory failed him. He didn’t let the surprise distract him for more than an instant as he bolted upright.

_No_ , he thought, trying desperately not to show his fear. _Nonono_. It was too early. Was it too early? For several long moments, Tony honestly couldn’t tell if his heat had hit yet. But no. No, he was safe still. For a certain definition of safe.

“Hello Anthony, my boy,” Obadiah said, a broad hand coming to rest firmly on the back of the prince’s neck.

Tony glared and suppressed a shudder. God, maybe the worst thing about interacting with Obadiah now was that the man hadn’t changed. Not really. Not his tone, not his speech, not the way he stood too close, or gripped him too tightly. Obie was as he had always been.

It was just that Tony could see it now.

“Now, don’t be like that,” he said. His hand slid over to one shoulder and thick fingers dug into the muscle.

Tony bit his tongue. Silence didn’t come easily to him, but the last thing he wanted was to give away his plans. He was often underestimated because he was an omega, and it was best to use that to his advantage. He needed every advantage he could get. Obie knew him better than most, but he had a number of blind spots that could be exploited. His confidence in his own superiority for one. Honestly, there were days Tony was surprised the man wasn’t an alpha; he certainly lived up to those stereotypes well enough.

It took real effort not to glance at any of his hiding places. He’d made modifications to his rooms years before when the study of architecture caught his fancy. He was confident that at least the hidden nook containing his armor was completely unnoticeable. On the other hand, if Obie suspected anything, he would probably order someone to tear into the very walls with a hammer.

“Still a few more days,” Obadiah said, probably to himself. Then louder, “It won’t be so bad, Anthony. And then you’ll be able to spend as long as you please in your workroom, without having to worry about anything else. Supervised, of course, to ensure that you don’t hurt yourself. I’ll take care of you.”

Tony met those eyes and read the darkness in them. So long as he was useful, so long as he produced the weapons Obadiah wanted and didn’t get any ideas of freedom or betrayal, then he wouldn’t be killed.

He bit the inside of his mouth until he tasted blood.

“So quiet!” Obadiah exclaimed with some amusement. “Usually no one can get you to shut up.” He heaved himself to his feet and patted Tony’s chest in dismissal, greedily eyeing the shine beneath the tunic. “Don’t worry so much Anthony,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “You’re an omega. It’ll come naturally to you.”

Was he talking about bonding during his heat? A life of submission?

“I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow.” The door slammed, bolt locking into place.

Tony shook, counting one minute, and then two.

Then he screamed and hurled the tray of food against the far wall. It wasn’t enough, and he tore apart his bedding, overcome with fury and terror.

He lost track of time. When he finally came back to himself, he found himself collapsed in a pile of fabric and feathers. It was a good thing his armor was ready. Because after that visit, Tony would have been leaving that night regardless of whether it was done.

*

Tony dozed throughout the rest of the day, waiting until after midnight to suit up in his armor. It was lighter than he’d expected, which was probably a good thing since he would also be carrying a bag of supplies. He hadn’t had the chance to test more than its fit and range of motion, which was making this escape that much more stressful. He could only trust that he truly had created miracles, and hope that its control was as intuitive as he believed.

With one last check to make sure that he wasn’t leaving anything behind, Tony buckled his smuggled dagger onto his waist.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had just stabbed Obadiah outright. But there was no guarantee he would be able to kill him. He might have the element of surprise, but Obadiah was larger, stronger, and far too used to defending himself against backstabbing. And if Tony did succeed, he wasn’t sure he wanted to begin his reign with bloodshed, nor was he certain just what instability might be introduced to his kingdom.

Tony hadn’t been as active as he should have been in the court – thinking back, that had probably been deliberate – and Obadiah had a number of supporters. How many of them knew of the regent’s plans, he couldn’t say, nor could he say how many might believe Tony should he try to bring to light Obadiah’s crimes against him. Or how many would care.

That wasn’t even taking into account the older man’s connections outside of the kingdom. The number of groups like the Ten Rings that he could coerce, bargain with, or hire to do his dirty work. Like assassinate a crown prince. It was only through luck and greed that that desert ambush hadn’t quite worked out.

Tony had to escape. He had to save himself, and maybe in the future he would come up with a way to bring Obadiah to justice.

He made his way up to the top floor of the tower, which had the largest window and was furthest from his chamber door. All the better to keep the guards from hearing him. Although, judging by his earlier fit, they would probably just ignore any crashes or loud noises.

It was an extremely tight squeeze, but Tony managed to force himself partway out the window. His armored hands grasped tightly at the tower walls as he stuck one foot out and activated the stone in the sole.

His heart skipped a beat when his leg jerked up against his will, nearly dislocating his hip. Then his stomach dropped when the power cut abruptly and his leg shot downwards, the momentum nearly jerking him out the window.

Tony choked back a yelp and dug his fingers into stone until it began to crumble. He pulled back and tried again. Pressure built up beneath his foot more slowly this time. He pressed down, harder and harder, until he was sure it would hold his weight in the air.

Deciding that he _probably_ wouldn’t leap to his death, Tony turned his eye to the position of the moon, and then to the rotation of the guards on the wall. He had a window of about 30 seconds with which to escape unseen if he was fast enough and ascended eastward at a roughly 45° angle.

Luckily, there was a bit of cloud cover that could hide him once he reached high enough. Then he wouldn’t have to hope that his distant glow was mistaken for a shooting star.

“Alright, Tony,” he breathed to himself, His gaze drifted to the ground, and he immediately wished it hadn’t. He snapped his focus back to the wall before dizziness caught him. “You can do this. Don’t even think. Just go.”

His sharp eyes marked the positions of the guards patrolling the wall. He just had to trust…well, he didn’t trust himself. But he trusted his creations, and he trusted that this one would work.

Death was just a backup plan. Not his preferred one, by any means. But it wouldn’t be so bad to see Stephen again.

The instant the last guard turned the corner, Tony threw himself out the window, the rush of adrenaline drowning out the scraping clatter of metal on rough stone. He immediately dropped several feet, a limb glancing off the outside wall, but his eyes were focused on the stars. His descent slowed, and then reversed. He wobbled in the air, almost tumbling forward, and then overcorrected, barely stopping himself from crashing back into the tower.

He was wasting too much time. Panting with stress and imminent heat, Tony fought the instinct to flail and straightened, forcing himself into a position that would put him on his calculated trajectory. He shot into the air at last, only a little awkward, and hoped that he’d made it into the clouds before anyone had seen him. He was too far away to hear the alarm if they had, but he preferred not to leave any clues about his planned destination.

When the fear faded away, the elation set in. He was free. He was free and he was _flying._ Insulated as he was within the armor, he could hear the air rushing past. He felt weightless, stomach hovering somewhere behind him, with all of the thrill and none of the nausea of a boat on storm-tossed waves. He wanted to shout. To push himself, to try every trick his body could think of that even the birds would never dare.

But he was also trying to escape unnoticed. So long as no one saw him, or thought the light of the stones unusual, then he might as well have disappeared into thin air. He could fly further in one night than any horse could ride, and he left no trail for dog or woodsman to follow. Obadiah could send people pursuing him in any direction, and only by luck would they follow and find his path.

And Tony wasn’t fleeing blindly. True, he had no allies or contacts. But he also had no one to betray him. By heading in the direction with terrain near impassible by horse and strenuous by foot, he could far outpace anyone behind him, if they even bothered to search far enough.

Once he was settled and found somewhere to practice away from anywhere with humans, then he could really test what his armor was capable of in the air.

The hours stretched on as Tony kept his course steady, and boredom quickly set in. Even the sheer marvel of flight abated when said flight required hours in the same position. His muscles were burning, his flightpath wobbling a bit every time he shifted, and he was sweating through his clothes with both exertion and imminent heat. But he needed as much distance as he could get, so he resigned himself to it.

Thick, dark treetops sped by beneath him, only occasionally broken by water, cliffs, or other landmarks. As the predawn approached, he began looking for a decent place to attempt a landing. Somewhere where he was unlikely to break something, and not too far from a water source.

Just as the light of the sun broke over the horizon, he saw a thinning of the branches near a clear stream. Angling himself downward, heart in his throat and almost trembling with exhaustion and nerves, he dropped too fast, overshot his landing, and clipped a few branches on the turn.

“Whoa!” he shouted, unthinkingly throwing his arms in front of him to brace himself as he almost slammed into a thick tree trunk. The move saved him from crashing into it face first, but it also gave him a bare second to realize that he was using too much power in his hands and very little in his feet to reverse himself. Next thing Tony knew, water and then dirt were showering around him, as he tumbled feet over head, and he immediately cut the power to his gauntlets and boots.

He skidded a few feet further, miraculously not breaking his neck on a tree. For long moments he simply lay prone on the ground, chest heaving as he stared unseeing at the sky. He really just wanted to stay. To pass out. The thought of moving made him groan.

The necessity of moving made him groan louder, but he forced himself to sit up.

And winced at the long, deep gouge in the earth his failed, skidding landing had left behind. The stream was quickly filling in his accidental pool. Tony heaved himself up out of the indentation, removed his helm, and let it drop to the side. Then he flopped onto a patch of grass and seriously considered just staying there.

His body throbbed, his clothes stuck unpleasantly to his skin, and all he wanted was a cool breeze and the relief of passing out.

Tony shot back upright with a gasp, hands flying frantically to his bag, before retracting them immediately. He hadn’t practiced enough to have dexterity in his movements while armored, and who knew how fragile some of his belongings had become. At least his immediate panic was calmed a bit when he remembered he had carried it to the side instead of centered on his back. He thought he’d managed to avoid landing directly on it. He’d also had the foresight to avoid packing anything glass or particularly delicate.

Still, it was best not to tempt fate. Instead he clumsily fished out the chain he’d hidden beneath his tunic, lifting it until a seemingly ordinary acorn caged in silver wire appeared.

“Store armor,” he enunciated clearly, if quietly.

It was a strange sensation, to be abruptly free of the heavy metal weight. He’d tested it before, of course. Just not while he was wearing it.

The acorn was actually the result of one of the experiments Stephen had attempted in their youth. One of their failed experiments, actually, one that had failed in unexpected ways as tended to be the case with magic. The oak it had come from had begun to display some unusual properties as well, from all the time the two boys had spent beneath its branches, exploring Stephen’s magic for weeks at a time each year. Unwisely explored, Tony could admit in hindsight, particularly in an anti-magic kingdom. They’d had little idea what they were doing. It was beyond lucky that nothing truly bad had happened.

Tony couldn’t remember anymore what Stephen had been trying to accomplish. What he _had_ created was a storage device that was less helpful than it sounded. And far too easy to throw out or misplace, as Tony had discovered to his detriment, having once spent an afternoon trying to find one specific acorn in a bowl of them. He’d twisted silver wire around it in a cage to prevent that from happening again.

There seemed to be no limit to the size of the object that could be stored within the acorn. The quantity, on the other hand, was extremely limited. As in, only one object could be stored within the acorn, no matter how big or small.

The boys had tried to find a loophole. But attempting to store a bag of supplies had just left the pile of supplies behind. Positing that there was too much variety, they’d tried a small bag of coins, and then a small bag of all the same coins. No matter how they tried to phrase it, or how creative they got, the acorn only stored either the bag, or one coin.

They’d tested the storage size up to an empty cart and stopped there. Neither of them had thought it a good idea to try storing a house, or anything living.

It was surprising useful in this situation, however. Tony pressed a quick, thankful kiss to Stephen’s gift, and tucked it back beneath his shirt.

Then he rummaged through his bag. The food was a bit squashed and his flasks of water dented in places, and the small pouch of money had torn so that there were a few loose coins floating around. But everything looked to be salvageable.

He broke of a piece of flatbread and sipped a mouthful of water to take the edge off before scrambling to his feet. He was beginning to feel a little aroused, signaling the beginning of his heat, and he still had to find some sort of shelter.

Ideally, he would have liked to find a cave, or at least some sort of rocky overhang. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember seeing any cliffs or rock formations anywhere nearby.

Tony picked a random direction and walked, carefully monitoring the location of the stream in relation to his position. He almost immediately found himself among ancient trees, if the sheer size of them was any indication. He had never seen trees so enormous. Considering how inconvenient the terrain was for travel, never mind with any sort of tools or inventory, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that none of them had been harvested.

He finally settled for a sort of den created between and beneath the exposed roots of one of those ancient trees. He found a large stick to prod the surprisingly large space, dagger at the ready in his other hand, though he was fairly sure that it was empty. His sense of smell became even stronger during his heats, just as his skin became more sensitive. It was something he’d always been vaguely embarrassed by and didn’t really think about.

Though Tony supposed it was useful to be able to scent that no large predators were lying in wait.

Satisfied that the den would serve as a decent shelter, he retrieved his blanket from the bag, stripped out of his damp clothes, and threw on a long undershirt. Then he spread his dirty clothes over the roots to air out and dry, crawled into his temporary den, and bundled himself up in the blanket before allowing himself to pass out at last.

It was difficult to tell time beneath the dense canopy. Since it wasn’t too dark to see, Tony assumed that it was only a few hours before his growling stomach woke him. He flailed blindly for his bag, limbs and eyelids heavy. He groped around until he recognized the feel of a pack of dried fruits. Eyes still closed, he bolted down half of it. Then he fished out a flask of water and drank roughly half of it as well, until his mouth stopped feeling so dry. Tears of exhaustion squeezing out of the corners of his eyes, the prince barely found the motivation to shove the packet and flask back in his bag before slipping into a deep sleep.

When Tony woke again it was a gradual awakening. He groaned, disgruntled and aching. The irritation of the slickness between his thighs and staining his undershirt wasn’t enough to dampen his arousal or distract him from how hard he was. Tempting though it was to find some sort of release, he unwrapped himself from his blanket and stumbled out among the trees.

He felt rested enough that hours must have passed, and the darkness beneath the branches also lent credence to that thought. At least he didn’t have to fumble with making a fire in the dark. Tony merely unlaced his undershirt so that his chest was bared. The star stone in his chest lit the way.

He wandered just far enough to take care of business, and then returned to his makeshift den. The prince sated his thirst and some of his hunger, and then curled back up, prepared to be bored and horny for at least another day.

The worst part of his heats, Tony thought, was that the low-level burn of arousal was _constant_. Even achieving release only took the edge off for a little while. It was enough to make anyone feel like they were going insane. Literature said that an alpha – particularly their knot – would contribute to greater and longer satisfaction, but Tony hadn’t dared to find an alpha to share a heat with. God knows what one would do with an omega prince in a rather vulnerable and compromised position.

Not that he would have trusted a beta either – case in point, Obadiah. But he hadn’t even been tempted since betas wouldn’t satisfy a heat unless they were bonded. He thought. It was hard to find accurate information on alphas and omegas in his kingdom, those presentations being so tied to magic.

So he only sighed and nestled in to his blanket until it was light enough outside for him to bathe in the river and clean his dirty clothes. The cold water, at least, would provide some relief. Not to mention the respite of feeling clean at last. Even if it was only temporary.

When Tony next ventured out, it was mid-morning. The sun was bright in a cloudless sky, easily seen once he reached the stream with his pack on his back, and dirty clothes in his arms. It felt strange to wander outside in only his undershirt, despite knowing that there was no one around for miles.

The gouge he’d left in the landscape had filled up into a slightly muddy pool over the course of the night and day. He gave it a considering look, and then decided against it. He hadn’t ever had to do laundry before, but he rather thought that rubbing dirty water into his clothes would make things worse. Sure, maybe the deeper area of the pool was clean enough, but Tony thought he’d take his chances with the running water. He would just have to be careful not to let his clothes slip out of his grasp, or he’d lose them forever downstream.

He stowed his pack and piled the clothes a few feet away, on the other side of a washed up tree to be safe. Then Tony waded into the water, not bothering to strip off the undershirt since that needed to be rinsed out too, and he was trying to preserve his last clean pair of clothes for after his heat was over.

He clenched his jaw, stifling a yelp at the cold temperature of the water. Heart racing, he forced himself to keep moving until he could submerge his entire body.

Tony straightened almost immediately, but once he’d gotten over the initial shock, it wasn’t so bad. The longer he relaxed into the stream, the better it felt on his overheated body.

Although hot water no doubt would have done wonders for his aching muscles, at least he didn’t have to fear random, inconvenient erections for the moment.

Tony sighed, and then splashed back to his pack and dirty laundry, retrieving a bit of soap. He worked on one article of clothing at a time, rubbing in some of the soap and then just sort of…scrubbing the cloth against itself. No doubt the laundresses would have been horrified at just how poor a job he was doing. All he really cared was that it wasn’t obviously dirtied with sweat or slick.

“How do they do it?” Tony wondered aloud, panting at the exertion and nursing a headache. It was certainly labor intensive, and that was just a few of his clothes. The laundresses had to do it for the entire castle.

He spread his soaked clothing out in the sun, using the branches of the fallen tree to keep them mostly off the ground. Then he found a patch of grass in direct sunlight, and flopped back on it, shivering a bit in the breeze.

“Stupid omega brain,” Tony muttered, closing his eyes. “Stupid heats.” That was when he felt most acutely a yawning emptiness in his life. An ache of loneliness and yearning that muscle soreness couldn’t drown out.

“Fuck off.”

He didn’t need a mate. His instincts didn’t know shit. Who the hell did he know that he would _want_ to mate, anyway?

He was struck with an image of what would be happening right now, if he hadn’t escaped the castle. Obadiah would be…he would…and his entire future, however long or short it would have been…

Tony shuddered in disgust, clawing at the grass and trying not to gag. He turned his thoughts elsewhere. Whatever happened next, he would never regret running.

*

Two days later, long after night fell, Tony donned his impossible armor and took off into the air, ready to continue his journey. His heat was over, his clothes somewhat clean and dry, and he’d erased as much of his presence as he could manage. He’d been getting antsy and impatient the more time passed, just imagining Obadiah’s men catching up to him no matter how unlikely that scenario was.

This time, at least, with less stress and fear weighing him down, he could pay more attention to the joy of the flight. He chanced a roll in midair, and then another, laughing with glee despite himself, before abruptly remembering that he ought to be mindful of the pack he was carrying. He was becoming more comfortable with flight and the temptation to test himself on more complicated aerial maneuvers lingered.

Unfortunately, Tony was also on a rather tight schedule if he wanted to make the most of his head start. He had studied the maps Jarvis and Captain Rhodey had smuggled to him carefully, and picked the most impassible direction possible with a destination he felt no one would expect of him. Having made his way past at least two thirds of the large, ancient forest and all its tangled, natural traps and pitfalls, the prince planned to clear both it and the desert tonight. If he timed it right, he would be able to find shelter for the day at the base of the mountain range.

Luckily, he wouldn’t have to fly over the full breadth of the desert, just a rather large arm of it. Unluckily, there was only one desert near his kingdom, and that was the same one he had been held hostage in. However far he might be from the former mercenary camp, it still made him feel anxious to imagine viewing that landscape.

It would be fine, Tony reassured himself. He could keep his eyes on the mountains if he needed to, and it wasn’t like it would look the same in the moonlight as it did in the bright sunlight. He’d be flying so fast, it wouldn’t even take the entire night. He wasn’t trapped or dying.

He was fine.

And the prince was, in fact, more or less fine with the way silver moonlight limned the rocks and hills of sand. He picked out the occasional scrub or cactus, and even sometimes a glimmer of movement that set his heart racing until he could confirm that there were no humans in sight.

It did remind him to angle higher, so that he might be mistaken as a shooting star should he be so unlucky as to pass over a caravan or desert nomad camp. He was relying mostly on luck in that regard, having no idea about the movements of the people of the desert. Luck and logic. There were a few different passes over the mountains, and none were nearby. Not with that particular forest bordering the other side of the desert.

Tony had just hoped that there wasn’t something of particular interest in the desert itself along his route.

Uncharacteristically, his luck held. His muscles were burning again, of course, and his eyes were blurring with boredom and fatigue as his flight path became a bit erratic. But dawn was at least another hour away, and he could see a shadowed rocky overhang that looked promising.

Having learned from his last attempt at landing, this time Tony managed a slower, softer landing. Or, as soft as heavy metal armor could be. His descent was shaky, awkward, and something else he was going to have to practice, but he only dropped the last couple of feet and made a slight indentation in the rocky soil.

“Ha. Nice,” he muttered to himself, and stumbled for the overhang. It was almost a little cave, just deep enough to keep him out of sight at most angles. Good enough.

The exhausted prince dropped his bag next to him and released one of his gauntlets so that he could grab a flask to slake his thirst. He’d filled up at the stream before leaving his last campsite, but he was going to have to ration his food even more strictly and hope for the best after he crossed the mountains.

Resolving to eat later, he wedged himself against the back wall and ignored the uncomfortable scraping sound of metal on stone. Much as he may regret it in the morning, he didn’t feel safe removing his armor unless he absolutely had to. This was just a rest to catch some sleep and wait for sundown again.

Resigning himself to the discomfort, Tony passed out in his armor.

He woke up just at sunset, a crack shining blinding light directly on his eyes. He grunted, turned away, and then choked on a yelp of pain as it felt like every muscle along his spine seized.

“Oh for fu–“ he bit off a curse and groaned deep in his chest. It was going to take him until dark before he managed to get his muscles working again. Slowly, inch by inch, he did his best to stretch his limbs and work through the initial pain. Hindered as he was by his heavy armor, he flexed and rolled, and, at one regrettable point, flopped until he could crawl out into the open air, dragging his bag along.

The last rays of sunlight shone on the horizon and turned the sky all shades of red and purple. Tony took a moment to admire the view, before his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in at least a day.

Gauntlet tucked under his arm, he dug his free hand inside the bag until he found the last of the dried meat. He chewed on it as he sorted through what little food remained. Some flat bread and a handful of nuts and berries. He’d have a snack when he landed, but after that he’d need to find a settlement or something.

Thankfully, he’d also have reached his destination. Or, the country of his destination, anyway. Tony planned on making his way to the capitol, but maybe he could catch a ride with someone instead of just flying in a general direction he thought might be correct. It was much easier to aim for a country than it was a city.

He refreshed himself as best he could, and then spent his time wandering around his immediate vicinity. The scenery was nice, but not particularly helpful in terms of supplies. Not that he was well-trained in living off the land, mountain or no.

It was full dark when Tony lifted off. This would be a much shorter flight, just over the mountains. Then he would be in the land of Kamar-Taj.

The high mountain winds buffeted his flying form, much worse than any he’d had to deal with so far. It was a challenge, and one he was determined to meet. He was afraid to let down his guard, imagining too clearly what would happen if he slipped and was bashed against a mountainside. No matter how carefully he kept his distance.

At last he reached the pass, and just barely prevented a wild tumble when the rock walls on either side channeled the wind into an abrupt and powerful current.

“Oh shit,” he muttered, voice strained and heart pounding. From the corners of his eyes, Tony thought he saw the moonstones in the palm of his gauntlets glowing even brighter. As if they, too, were channeling more power and straining to follow his direction.

Thankfully, the helm protected his vision so that he wasn’t flying blind.

Tony could tell when he cleared the pass by the lessening of the winds, and he clumsily dove to the side to get out of the worst of the channel.

The descent down the mountain on this side was much shallower and more covered in grass, though what he took to be the base was also much further in the distance and interrupted by what looked like hills and valleys. He dropped, still shaking a little from the strain and without a more specific destination in mind.

Or, at least, with no good idea on how to get to the capitol at the moment.

It was only when Tony touched down that he realized he should have looked for signs of people in the area. A fire or something, though he didn’t remember seeing any points of light. He hadn’t been looking very closely, though.

Tony thought about flying around a bit more, maybe getting a better idea of where to go next. But despite his comparatively short flight, he was already feeling the strain and the thought of going up again was just…no more. Not now.

He wanted to sleep. He wanted to recover, and maybe if he camped until it was light out, his internal clock would return to something resembling normal, and his head would stop pounding.

Yeah. Rest was a good idea.

He stored his armor, and then looked around for a spot to lie down. The grass actually seemed inviting enough that he could just drop where he was, but it seemed a little too exposed for his comfort.

Tony looked around and spied a rather stumpy tree a ways downhill and just above a dip in the landscape. It wasn’t the best cover, but it looked to be shielded from the wind and casual glances. Plus, downhill was a bonus when the other option was climbing a goddamn mountain.

He let gravity drag his weary legs to his chosen shelter, sipping at his water along the way and then retrieving his blanket. He dropped down as soon as he reached his destination, curling up and practically passing out. Which, actually, was a bit unusual for him, but he was too tired to make sense of whatever sense of alarm he was feeling in the depths of his mind.

Burrowed into his blanket as he was, Tony was not woken by the sun shining in his eyes. Instead, it was a nudging at his face and back that caused him to stir.

The moment he remembered that he was not back in his own room, and this was not a servant come to wake him, the prince jerked up, twisting away and flailing. “Mmmwha – ?” he croaked, and broke off into a cough. It felt like shards of glass lined his throat, and his eyes watered.

Blinking rapidly, he managed to focus his gaze on…a goat.

It bleated and lipped at his hair.

“Ew, no,” Tony rasped. He leaned back and shoved its face away. “Get.”

The goat snorted and wandered off.

Tony clutched at his head, trying to swallow in a way that didn’t feel like he was ripping his throat open. Oh, he didn’t feel well at all. But he thought maybe the goat wasn’t wild. Which meant there were people around here somewhere.

Which meant he needed to get up and move.

_Up_ , he thought at himself. _Go_.

With a silent groan, he pushed himself upright, wrapped his blanket around himself, and shouldered his bag. He glanced down to check that his chest and the stone embedded within it were well-hidden before looking around. Squinting, Tony thought he maybe was looking at a grouping of tents in the distance. With no better ideas, he started trudging towards them.

Tony’s next clear memory was of staring up at the ceiling of a tent. If he strained, he could vaguely remember loud voices, the stress of seeing people running toward him, and his panic at hands straying far too close to his chest.

Had they seen…?

His hands twitched with the need to yank at his neckline and check, but he had no idea if anyone was watching.

Tony tilted his head to look around, inhaling deeply to catch any lingering scents, and frowned a little before realizing what was off. The pungent scents of medicinal herbs couldn’t completely mask the lingering presence of – presumably – the healer. What had thrown him off was the complete lack of any hint of secondary gender. He was unused to scent blockers, coming from an anti-magic, beta majority kingdom. Betas had a duller sense of smell and milder instincts, and so it didn’t tend to occur to them to make allowances for the minority alphas and omegas.

It made sense to include scent blockers within what looked to be a medicine tent.

The Stark Kingdom really hadn’t been so bad in its treatment of omegas. Middling, actually, compared to the other countries. Alphas and omegas might have been generally looked down on, but neither presentation were oppressed in the horrific ways certain other kingdoms allowed and encouraged. Tony wouldn’t have been denied the throne because he was an omega, for instance. Nor was he seen as nothing more than some sort of breeder.

It hadn’t been so bad. But Tony hadn’t been conscious of why he was always so stressed and on edge in the castle infirmary until this thoughtful little indulgence in a foreign healing tent. He still wasn’t a fan of healing quarters, but the scent-blockers made the space feel a little bit safer. His nerves were a little less tense and guarded. Nothing beyond what he would feel in an unknown environment, anyway.

With no one in eyesight, Tony pulled up the layers of his tunics and peered down at his chest. It looked like the band he’d wrapped around his starstone had all of the same unique folds he’d memorized just so he could know whether it had been touched while he was unaware. And his acorn pendant was still there as well.

He jerked his hand down and away when the flap of the tent was pulled back. An older woman ducked inside, grey-streaked hair pulled back in a long braid and wrinkles beginning to deepen in a face darkened by a life in the sun.

She hummed when her gaze met his, crossing the room to kneel by his pallet. “You look lucid this time,” she said. Tony suppressed a flinch when one hand reached out to feel his forehead. “And your fever’s gone. How do you feel?”

Tony took a moment to assess himself. And then curled to one side as a hacking cough ripped through his chest. A cup of water was pushed into his hand as it tapered off, and he welcomed the relief.

“Better than I was,” he answered at last, voice a little hoarse. “But not great.” Everything he had been through and pushed back in his desperate escape had finally caught up with his body. Illness had apparently struck hard. “How long have I been here?”

“Three days,” she replied. “Not so long for as sick as you were.”

Daxa, the healer, kept him under her care for another two days. Though he was mostly healed, she might have kept him longer if he hadn’t been so restless. She kicked him out for sunlight and fresh air, and he took advantage to meet the people of this particular nomadic herding tribe. Especially the ones who had rushed to his aid when they noticed his approach.

*

Tony had paid special attention to his lessons on Kamar-Taj. It was one of the more powerful pro-magic kingdoms, and if Stephen could no longer achieve his dream of visiting and attending their schools, then Tony would learn all he could in his stead.

Not that his tutors covered Kamar-Taj in any great detail. Or without bias.

Their head of government and law of succession was perhaps the most unique among the kingdoms that Stark had dealings with. Royal bloodlines had nothing to do with it, which must have incensed Howard to hear. Tony didn’t understand how it worked, but written record claimed that magic itself chose the strongest practitioner as the Sorcerer Supreme.

As for successors, there were generally a handful of potentials who seemed to hold the equivalent offices of princes and princesses. There to learn how to govern and what would be required of them should they be chosen once the current Sorcerer Supreme stepped down or passed away.

Even more confusing, their proper title was Master, which seemed no different than how professors, healers, and masters of certain crafts were referred to. Tony wondered if there was a nuance there that foreigners couldn’t hear, or some sort of error in translation.

So Tony had been somewhat prepared to interact with Kamar-Taj’s royalty, and hardly prepared for the use of magic in the everyday lives of average citizens. The double-take he had done the first time he’d seen a pot of stew stirring itself had sparked laughter in his onlookers.

It was the little things that threw him, small everyday spells that Tony had never imagined. When something was forbidden, it always seemed to become so much larger and more powerful in the imagination. At least in the prince’s mind.

There wasn’t a pattern he could see, and it wasn’t something that everyone did all the time. But now that he knew to look, he saw things stirring themselves or pestles working on their own, fires sometimes begun with a snap and lost knives or accessories summoned to hand.

He had no doubt that other magics were being worked as well, in ways that he couldn’t perceive. It was both unnerving and delightful.

Having no pressing need to be elsewhere, Tony ended up lingering long after he meant to. First to regain his usual good health, and then trying to find some way to thank them and repay Daxa for his care.

His royal upbringing had not imparted any useful skills in this situation. He had some coin, though it was fairly useless to the nomads when they spent so much of their time far from any sort of settlement. He had no idea how to herd anything, and the animals were too valuable to risk losing while teaching him. Tony did try to stand guard for predators as many of the children did, but his mind wandered and was easily distracted by more interesting thoughts and plans despite his best intentions.

Tony was eventually forced to settle on learning to assist with the cooking. He was slow, of course, but as added hands for food preparation, he didn’t exactly slow them down. It just didn’t seem like enough. He was being fed from the same pot and learning what could be foraged from the land around them, it was only right that he contribute. It wasn’t thanks for saving and caring for him.

So he turned to what he did know.

This particular camp was a semi-permanent summer camp. One the herders frequented more often than most due to plentiful grazing that rarely suffered from drought or disease, and a readily available underground water source that only ran low in the driest of summers. There was even a well pump built for anyone’s use.

And it had certainly seen a lot of use. For all that it was sturdy, a small part was missing that hadn’t been replaced. Workarounds had been found, either a spell some had mastered or a makeshift piece that helped, but meant that there was a trick to using the lever so that it didn’t lock in place or fall off its track.

Tony could see at a glance what was needed and how to make it. That was the easy part. He could even find some spare scraps of metal around the camp and a bit of ore among the rocks. And surely there was a flat rock somewhere that he could use in place of an anvil. The difficult part was figuring out how to make the fire hot enough to use for forging. Probably he could use a bladder as a makeshift bellows…

If he dug a pit…the power of the sun was melded into his suit of armor…he could use the chest and back pieces to wall his fire and surely the sun’s power would increase the intensity of the heat…

Possessed with that spark of invention, Tony wasted no time in getting to work. Some of the children peppered him with questions as they watched him, while the adults that passed by between their daily tasks eyed him with bemusement.

He barely noticed, testing out and getting to know his crude forge. It was a couple of days before he felt comfortable enough to shape the scraps of metal he had scrounged into the missing well pump part.

It fit perfectly, but despite the somewhat impressed thanks and relieved gratitude, they seemed hesitant to bring him other broken bits and trinkets that needed repairing. Tony was fairly certain it was a test when one of the elders, Heena, brought a broken metal amulet for him to fix. He was doubly glad to have packed so many of his tools for something that required small, detailed work.

The finished product seemed nearly flawless to the inventor, but the way Heena scrutinized it had him feeling anxious. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but there was a certain knowing in her eyes when she nodded at him in satisfaction.

After that, the nomadic camp brought him what little they had that needed repair. It didn’t take him long to complete the work, either. So he felt safe enough to store away the pieces of his armor and bury the pit afterward. He should probably be thinking about moving on anyway, having repaid them for their care and not wanting to overstay his welcome.

That was the night they struck.

Screams woke Tony in the dead of night, and he stumbled from the shared tent to see a mass of movement backlit by fires and spell light.

“What? What’s going on?!”

Someone, he couldn’t see who in the darkness, shouted that the main tent and the white tents – so colored to indicate the medicine tent and the tents specifically for omegas in heat and alphas in rut – were safer, better warded.

Flashes of light let him see some of the herders struggling to defend against a group with both weapons and magic, in robes of a distinctly different style. Some of the nomads ducked behind thick woven and hide blankets that provided much better cover than they had any right to. He saw spells splash ineffectively against the protected tents.

Then Tony watched as an arrow split into several points mid-flight, and struck several targets in balls of intense fire. And he recognized that weapon.

His design.

The prince’s fear transformed into a reckless rage. He ducked into the darkness away from the worst of the fighting and summoned his armor.

It was far too soon for anyone to have tracked him down. Tony was sure of it. His cover might have been rather flimsy, but variations of Tony’s name had become rather common immediately after his birth, and he hadn’t been called by his nickname since before his parents had been killed. He’d even identified as being from Sheillaven.

No. These people weren’t hunting him. They were opportunists who had stolen or been given his weapons.

Protected by his armor, fury hidden behind his helm, Tony swung out from behind the tent and shot a lance of power at the closest brigand. Several fighters froze at his sudden and startling appearance, and he took advantage of that to mow through a cluster aiming at stragglers.

Almost immediately, Tony found himself lost in the chaos. He’d never been in a pitched battle before. It was nearly overwhelming, but he grasped onto his rage and used it to carry him on.

Point and shoot. Point and shoot. Block. Elbow. Slap the knife hand away, hard enough for it to spasm and drop the weapon. Dodge. Any chance he had to destroy their weapons, he took, before they could cut bloody swathes through the defenders.

The sorcerers among the brigands were quick to aim at him. They slammed him down and blasted him back on occasion. But it seemed that they were not strong enough to overcome celestial power, his armor unexpectedly shielding him from the worst.

Or perhaps they were simply working up to it. One of them…someone was building up so much power that even he could feel it. It made his teeth ache, and a chill of terror run down his spine.

A wheel of sparks appeared in his peripheral vision, and then another, and another. Did the bandits have reinforcements? His heart raced even faster, so much that he was afraid it would succumb to its weakness and not even the energy of stars could support it. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. Nor how well the nomads could continue, given he’d lost track of how many had retreated and didn’t know how long their magic could hold out. Surely they had nothing that could stand up to whichever sorcerer was raising such power, never mind the number of fresh bodies taking to the field.

So on edge, Tony nearly attacked the newcomers before realizing that he could recognize the voices that were cheering. He hesitated long enough to see the handful of men and women in darkly colored robes slam their magic into the band of brigands. Caught off guard, the spells tore through their offense and blew the majority of them backward.

The surge of relief gave him the energy to keep going, but now that these new sorcerers had joined, the brigands were quickly routed. Though he felt a little guilty about ducking out early, there really wasn’t anything more he could do that others couldn’t do just as well or better.

Tony slipped into the shadows behind the nearest tent away from the battle. It took only a moment to store his armor. Then he dithered, wondering if it was worth it to try convincing anyone who asked that he didn’t have anything to do with the armored fighter. How much effort would it take to lie well enough for people to believe he didn’t know anything about it?

Maybe no one would ask at all.

The prince crept out to check on the fighting, and then wandered towards the former battlefield once he could see that the fighting was definitively over. He should at least confirm that the presence of his invented weapons was a coincidence. That they weren’t working for Obadiah and hadn’t somehow heard rumors or tracked him to the borders of Kamar-Taj.

He wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself if that was what had happened.

The nomads who had taken shelter were just beginning to emerge. Daxa was already present, directing fighters and sorcerers alike to see to the wounded, and a few of the men were separating out the dead.

Tony grimaced and had just started in their direction to offer his assistance when a movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and saw a man dressed in rich blue robes bend down among a cluster of fallen weapons and fallen enemies. He stood some ways apart from the others, amid a zone of stillness and flickering firelight. Tony was close enough that he could just see the frown in profile, and the piece of metal, stamped with some sort of crest or identifying feature, perhaps.

The hairs on Tony’s arms and the back of his neck stood on end. His breath caught, even as his conscious mind was trying to figure out what his subconscious had already put together.

And then it snapped into place with clarity.

They had his weapons. They had his weapons that he had not mass produced, but had created nonetheless. It stood to reason that Obadiah would not have hesitated to have used the plans and blueprints he had not approved. Ones he had scrapped for going too far. For being too cruel, too much, for a time of peace. His kingdom was not at war, and Tony had no intention of changing that. Of becoming a conqueror. Of supplying weapons to mercenaries.

“Put it down!” he shouted, sprinting towards the sorcerer. “Throw it away!”

Tony knew well the dangers of curiosity, and the pricelessness of knowledge. Some inconspicuous, unthreatening object, perhaps dropped by the enemy, would be certain to draw attention if it looked to hold some clue or identification.

And once they’d been drawn in…

The man looked up sharply, startled. It took him only a moment to register Tony’s urgency, to understand the words he shouted as he sprinted towards him.

Thankfully, the man seemed to comprehend the idea that Tony was trying to get across. He threw it, away from the camp. But there was not enough force behind it.

The prince dove at the sorcerer, and felt the blast of heat at his back as he brought them both to the ground and instinctively shielded the other man. Time slowed to a crawl, just long enough for him to register the scent of an alpha, and to realize that he had never met anyone that smelled so good…

Then he knew only pain, and couldn’t even tell if he screamed.

And then darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! Just in time. I ended up skipping a section since I was feeling so inspired and excited for the climax and conclusion. So then I had to go back and actually write that section afterwards, when I felt like I should be relieved to be done since I'd just written the ending. That section might feel a bit rushed, but it's finally done. It's all done. Some day I may end up writing a follow-up one-shot with all of the smut I didn't write in this one, but no promises.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, WillowTailBreeze!

_Please be wild and wonderful. Please be fierce and stubborn because I am also those things, and if we are both fierce and stubborn neither of us shall mind when the other is especially one or the other._   
_**-Catherynne M. Valente, The Boy Who Lost Fairyland** _

Tony drifted awake so slowly that he barely registered the transition from sleep. Or, perhaps, unconsciousness.

His limbs felt so heavy he couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t melting into the bed. Even the slight ache in his chest, the breathlessness that came these days whenever he forgot himself and laid face down for too long, was only distantly acknowledged.

Gradually, he became more and more aware. More present.

He was slow to consciously realize the scent he was inhaling. He had never smelled anything so good before. Something like old parchment, and petrichor, and maybe tea. And something else indescribable, something that was so very alpha.

The scent seemed to thread through his muscles, to curl into his very being and relax any point of tension, because he was _safe_.

And then his actual brain broke through his stupid omega mind, and he tensed, immediately trying to lift himself upright and turn over.

A hand cupped the back of his head at once, gentle but firm. “Don’t,” said a deep voice.

Unnecessarily. The pain that flared on his back, skin tight and burning like he’d fallen backwards into his forge, stopped him immediately. He dropped back onto the bed with a choked moan and tried to breathe through it. It was some time before he really registered the other person’s presence.

Once he’d gotten control of himself and felt less like death would be a mercy, he carefully tilted his head to the side and squinted, blinking to clear his vision. This definitely wasn’t a tent. The walls were made of wood and stone, though it smelled just like the medicine tent.

Tony wondered where this healing hall was and how he had gotten here.

He heard movement, then, the rustle of cloth and the sound of water pouring. Tilting his head further, he saw familiar blue robes. This time he was close enough to see the man in detail. Tall and slender, with sharp blue eyes and facial hair. He looked too young for the streaks of white at his temples.

The prince was almost glad for whatever concoction was slowing his mind. Not just because it was dulling the pain, but also because it prevented him from acting on his first instinct. He had enough time to catch himself before making a show of submission, or a sign signifying his…willingness. Desire.

And then he realized, as the sorcerer approached him with a cup of water in shaking hands, that he had no idea if his chest had been exposed or not. If it had been _seen_.

His hand twitched towards his front, but he’d learned his lesson about moving. He couldn’t exactly check with a witness either.

Nothing could be done about it now. It had either been seen or it hadn’t been.

“Do I have your permission to lift you up enough that you would have a better angle for drinking?”

Oh. Tony hadn’t been imagining just how deep and resonant that voice was. He suppressed a shiver, and couldn’t help that his glance was caught by the ropy scars lining the man’s shaking fingers.

His eyes darted up as soon as he realized that he was staring. His cheeks colored slightly, unusually embarrassed as he saw that the…healer?... That the healer had been watching.

“I would be using magic, of course.” His tone and expression were deliberately neutral.

Tony winced slightly, and croaked, “Yeah. Sure.”

The healer twisted his free hand, glowing swirls of color painting the air and spiraling towards Tony. It was strange for his body to be manipulated without hands on him, as if the bed itself angled him up at an incline, but without the expected pressure on his front. He could relax into the grip of the magic, and let it carry him without straining his back.

His hands automatically moved to his chest, feeling nothing as they passed through the magic. The band was missing, no longer wrapped tight around his chest. Tony would have been shocked if it had. No doubt everything at his back had been burned in the explosion, and it would have been lost when he’d been moved and transferred to wherever he was now.

He felt a curious gaze on him as the cup of water was gently tipped into his mouth.

“Are there injuries on your front that need tending?” he asked.

Tony choked a little in his haste to deny it.

“Apologies. When we tried to examine you for other injuries aside from the obvious, you were very insistent that no one touch your torso. Ordinarily we would not have taken the word of a delirious patient, but you grew so agitated that I was afraid that you would injure yourself further.

“As there was no large puddle of blood accumulating beneath you, I thought it was likely a safer gamble to wait until you were in a clearer state of mind.”

“It’s fine,” Tony said immediately. “My front is fine, I just…it’s…” He had no idea what he could say to explain it away. “…shy…? I mean! I’m! Ugh. I’m not injured anywhere except my back.”

The healer snorted in amusement.

Tony shoved the cup of water back into his face and prayed that his tan hid the color he felt in his cheeks. He thought he’d long outgrown the need to blush. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt flustered. It made him feel like an uncoordinated teen again, and he did not like it.

When he resurfaced, he felt a little more collected and remembered that there were important questions that needed asking.

“Where am I? Who are you?”

The other man appeared chagrined as he retrieved the empty cup to pour more water. “Of course. Thank you, by the way, for saving my life. I should have said so sooner. I would not have been able to put up a shield in time had you not warned me to be wary of what I held.

“And still, you were badly injured.”

He was silent for a moment, guilt flashing across his face before collecting himself and projecting a professional air once more. “You are in the capital of Kamar-Taj, in the healing quarters of the palace. I brought you straight here as soon as you passed out. You are welcome to stay for as long as you need, until you are fully healed and well again. I estimate another three days of regularly changing your bandages soaked with a burn salve, and then we can switch to ointments, beneath clean bandages. It will be another week at least, until you can move about with minimal pain.

“As for myself, my name is Stephen – ”

A knock cut him off, and the door slid open. “Stephen,” a pretty young woman with dark reddish hair hissed, and then paused in surprise. “I’m sorry for interrupting,” she said, drawing herself up and looking at Tony with warm sympathy. “I hadn’t realized that you were awake.”

“It’s fine,” Tony murmured, reaching out for the refilled water cup. Partly because he was still parched, but also to hide his expression. It wasn’t the first time he had interacted with people who shared some variation of the name ‘Stephen’. He had even stopped looking around for the boy he once knew whenever he heard it, and could speak with and about those others without feeling that ache of grief. It helped that their looks, voice, and most things about them were so different.

But this Stephen… He wondered if it was fading memories or wishful thinking that made him see a resemblance. It was probably just the dark hair and pale skin, the angular features that had him drawing superficial comparisons and lingering on the impossible.

It hurt more than he expected. It had been years. He should be over it by now, or at least less pained.

“Excuse me,” this Stephen murmured, and stepped away.

The two healers spoke quietly in the doorway, heads bent together. They looked to be quite an attractive pair and, perhaps more importantly, they looked quite comfortable together.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and shoved down his misplaced jealousy. He had no claim on the alpha, and was hardly in a position for a relationship anyway.

He drained his cup and then fiddled with it. The side table was not in easy reach, and he remembered too well what happened when he tried to sit up. Stretching that far would be agony.

“Tony.”

His head shot up at that low voice. He hadn’t introduced himself, so how…?

Apparently, Stephen could read his question on his face. “I spoke with the herders. They gave us your name, and what they believed were all of your belongings.” He nodded to where his bag sat as he moved back to his side and reached for the cup.

“I’m sorry, but I need to step out.” He motioned with one hand, and Tony felt himself gently lowered back down to the bed. “If you require anything else, please call out and someone will assist you. Otherwise, rest, and later you can check to be sure that everything is in your bag. If anything was forgotten, it will be no trouble to return to the camp for it.”

Tony nodded into his pillow, eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. “Thanks,” he mumbled. It felt wrong, to have been forced to leave so abruptly when the people had been so kind to him. He’d have to ask Stephen to convey his thanks and condolences. And maybe in the future he could visit? Even just to pay his respects.

“Sleep,” Stephen said softly.

Tony imagined he felt a trembling hand brush through his hair before he heard receding footsteps.

*

The next time he woke up and felt well enough to check the contents of his bag, Tony was bitterly disappointed that it was the female healer he’d met – Christine – who lingered to assist him. He hoped that the scent blockers permeating the wing disguised, or at least muted it. He hardly needed his…his omega mind’s affections advertised.

Opening up his bag effectively distracted him from that line of thought. Or any other for several long moments.

Sitting right on top was his acorn pendant, laced onto a new cord.

Tony’s hand automatically flew to where it should have hung around his neck. Retroactive panic knocked the breath from his chest.

The prince missed the way Christine’s eyes widened as he pulled the necklace over his head, and the thoughtful furrow between her brow as he tucked it beneath his shift.

It must have either been burned or torn off in the explosion. And he hadn’t even noticed! He could have lost this precious gift – and his impossible armor – forever. And he hadn’t realized. Hadn’t noticed it was missing.

Tony pushed his bag aside and shakily let Christine help to lower himself back down on the bed. He didn’t have the energy or motivation to rummage through his bag any further. It could wait.

Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about this newest close call.

Not about yet another near death after this latest brush with his weapons. If the inventor had built it himself, if he hadn’t sabotaged or destroyed his blueprints and models, then he and many others would be dead right now. The explosion would have been much more powerful and triggered sooner.

That was what he should be lingering on. He should be agonizing over whether Jarvis had managed to burn or incapacitate what was left in his private workspace while he was trapped in the tower. He should be wondering if he should have had him and Rhodey set the traps rather than leaving them alone. Regardless of his knowledge that it would be the guards and soldiers who suffered. Obadiah wouldn’t care one whit about their lives. He would keep setting them against his trapped workspace until all the traps had been triggered or dismantled. Weighed against the value of Tony’s genius weapons of conquest, with the regent safely out of the line of fire and secure in his power, what else would Obadiah see but a cheap and easy bargain?

These should be the prince’s thoughts. His agonizing deliberations. No doubt they would torment him later.

But now, all he could think was that it was a minor miracle that anyone had noticed the small pendant on a battlefield. Never mind known that it belonged to him.

He drifted into an uneasy sleep, woken several times by the pain his moving about sparked. His unusual position laying on his front didn’t help. Combined with the pressure it put on his scarred chest and the gem set within it, he too often felt as though he were suffocating.

For the next several days, gnawed at by his worries and spiraling, Tony was forced to request a sleeping potion that would keep him still.

His only reprieve was when the alpha – Stephen – visited and tended to him. Painful as his treatment could be, no matter how careful the healer, Tony often had to catch himself before he began purring at the gentle aftercare while surrounded by that heady scent.

It would have been _really_ embarrassing if he had a heat coming up. Thankfully, it had passed fairly recently. The prince wouldn’t have to worry about the next one until after he was healed and released from the infirmary. He’d been told that there were designated safe boarding spaces for omegas to ride out their heats alone, which was one less thing he needed to worry about.

_He’s not mine_ , he would remind himself when Stephen left, fists clenching as he suppressed passing thoughts about spending a heat with him. _He can’t be. He’s probably with Christine, anyway._ And then he would have to control the whining, miserable omega instincts that were devastated at the thought.

Sometimes, either to punish himself or to remind himself not to take his frustrations out on Christine, he would list all of her positive attributes that he had observed. She was genuinely nice, for one. She cared about people, and he did like her when he wasn’t succumbing to base instinct.

“Are you the head healer?” Tony murmured one day, chin resting on his folded arms as he tried not to doze off. Stephen had arrived to keep him company not so long ago. He often brought a book or two with him since seeing just how bored he was, and how ill-suited he was for doing nothing. But even that wasn’t keeping the prince as engaged as he usually was. The warm weather seeped into the infirmary. Combined with the alpha’s soothing presence it was very relaxing, and he hadn’t slept well at night since he stopped taking sleeping aids. “The royal healer?”

Stephen paused, long enough that Tony wondered if he’d said something wrong. “Why do you think that?”

Tony shrugged, and then winced. “This is the healing halls within the palace. And what few other healers I’ve seen certainly defer to you. Plus, you always seem to be busy with something.”

Stephen hummed. “Yes, I suppose you could call me the royal healer.” There was a faint trace of amusement in his tone that the prince didn’t understand. It wasn’t really worth pursuing, anyway. The healer could be very tight-lipped.

And kind.

And a real bastard. But all of Tony’s friends tended to have some bastard in them. He generally preferred them that way.

“What’s a healer doing fighting on a battlefield, anyway?” Tony mumbled. Then he registered what he’d said and bit his lip. That was rather blunt. But he was curious and there was no taking back what he’d said now.

Though he wasn’t looking at the taller man, he could feel the tension radiating from him. _Good going, idiot. Poke at sore spots, why not?_

“While I have all of the training and skill of a healer – one of the best healers –“

Tony scoffed at his played-up arrogance. He was arrogant, no doubt, but he knew that this was just to get a rise out of him.

“ – My magical inclinations – my natural talents, so to speak - are actually battle magics.”

Tony tilted his head so that he could look at the other.

Stephen’s lips twisted in an ironic, self-deprecating smirk. “I have the…hmm, temperament is not the word. Everything that’s been said about my bedside manner is true.”

“You’ve got a great bedside manner,” Tony couldn’t suppress the vehement words. Then he buried his face in his pillow as subtly as he could. _Damn it_.

“Well. You might be the first to think so.” He could hear how taken aback Stephen was. But also, maybe, pleased?

“Regardless, you cannot deny I have no patience for prevarication, and not many people like to hear my…blunt diagnoses, shall we say.”

Tony lifted his head to agree. “You are an asshole.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “But an asshole who is also a pacifist. So you can imagine how difficult it was to learn that, while I did have a particular talent for magic, I had an even greater talent for offensive spells and battle magic.”

“Stephen, you weren’t forced to fight, were you? You weren’t drafted?” Surely not. Surely that was against some law, especially for someone who became head healer. He had to be more valuable healing people than fighting for a kingdom that wasn’t even at war.

“No. Tony, no,” Stephen said, no doubt seeing how agitated he was becoming.

The prince felt ready to jump up and throw his royal weight around to correct the injustice, damn the consequences.

“I had a choice. But I also have a responsibility. Sometimes saving lives – protecting people – means that I have to fight. I came to terms with my decision years ago. And it was _my_ decision, however manipulative or persuasive others might be.” That last sounded as if he was talking to himself.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Their conversation tapered off. But Tony wasn’t willing to waste the time he had with the alpha, so he began to ask more about the country and the capital. He was going to be living there for the foreseeable future, after all. Insight from a local would be invaluable.

Eventually, several weeks after he’d first been brought in, Tony’s burns were healed. He could twist and turn with minimal pain, and his attending healers had been rubbing a cream into his damaged skin to minimize scarring and reduce tightness, making sure that the skin of his back remained as supple as was usual.

Those sessions with Stephen had truly tried his self-control. It was to his advantage that he’d been injured enough to remain in control of his impulses, and the alpha appeared dense enough to not notice his reactions. Or else, to not put it down to anything more than an average physiological response.

Tony had to keep reminding himself that he was in no position to start anything, that he couldn’t risk it. Especially not with someone who might be positioned highly enough to know vaguely who Prince Anthony was, and to hear about his escape should Stark Kingdom actually be desperate enough to send messengers to Kamar-Taj beyond just a hawk.

Besides, even if Stephen was free to pursue a relationship, why would he choose a penniless foreigner who may not even manage to find steady work? And Tony had his secrets he couldn’t risk being discovered.

No. There was no basis there for more than friendship, if that.

He probably wouldn’t see Stephen again, after this. He was a busy royal healer, after all.

A whimper slipped out before he could suppress it. He turned his thoughts instead to what his goals were now. Something he hadn’t let himself think about while he was still recovering.

Not having an immediate answer, not knowing what to plan for his future, what he was aiming for now that he’d been essentially stripped of most of his identity… It was a new feeling. And very uncomfortable. It felt, for a little while, as though the world had ground to a halt. Aimless, directionless, he dissociated. Hard.

It took him some time to remember his weapons in wrong hands. Among mercenaries and thieves and brigands. To remember the blood on his hands from being so irresponsible, so naïve…so _stupid_. It was inevitable that some of his weapons would be stolen or otherwise fall into the wrong hands. But there was a difference between that, and someone outright selling them an armory.

Then his memory of clumsy flight. His initial joy and exhilarating freedom, his desire to do better, to be more skilled and daring than even the birds.

Then acknowledging that eventually he would have to figure out how to depose Obie and regain his throne. That his people deserved better. He knew what Obadiah desired, and the specter of conquest should not stain his kingdom or hang over its neighbors.

Tony had goals. He just needed to plan. And it started where he’d already begun. With learning about his new home, and finding his own forge.

He spent his last few days in the infirmary asking anyone he came into contact with about the city, the blacksmiths, any forges that might be available for rent, as well as rooms and what their average rent was. One healer even brought in a map of the city to show him where the forges were located and to point out locations of interest. Even the best, cheap food in various neighborhoods, as well as areas to watch out for.

Tony was rather touched by the extra effort, but maybe he had just been so annoying that they were trying to shut him up. Either way, he learned more than he expected.

Carefully double-checking his count of the coins he had escaped with, Tony weighed his priorities. He figured had just about enough for a couple of months renting both a room and space in a forge. Or else he could sleep in a forge, which had the bonus of being warm. On the other hand, no proper bed and it would be absolutely filthy no matter how well kept.

Well, he was confident in his skills. Business would no doubt be slow at the beginning, but his skill should speak for itself. He figured he would be able to last long enough to begin earning back what was spent. And if things got tight, he could always default to sleeping in his workspace and vacating the room.

Thievery and pickpockets could be a problem, though. He had no idea what crime statistics might be. Much as he hoped that he didn’t look like an easy mark, the fact of the matter was that he had been born a prince, who had not often been allowed to mingle outside of the castle.

Luckily, Tony had been paying attention when his Stephen – his childhood friend, Stephen – had told him what tricks merchants and traders used to protect their money. That would have to be enough.

The day Tony took his leave of the palace infirmary, he was surprisingly reluctant. Usually he couldn’t wait to escape the healers, too impatient and on edge to remain until they were comfortable releasing him.

He knew where the reluctance was coming from and ignored it. It was past time to go, and no lanky alpha with astonishingly blue eyes was going to distract him.

Stephen walked him to the exit and paused at the top of the stairs to say his farewells.

Tony set his jaw and he looked up at him. If this was the last time he would see him, then the prince wanted to imprint him in his memory.

“Thank you, again,” Stephen said quietly. “And please be careful with yourself. You are entirely too stubborn and reckless.”

Tony scoffed. “Lies. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Where is the evidence, might I ask?” Stephen’s eyes glinted with amusement.

“Standing right here,” Tony said with an exaggeratedly confident smile, gesturing at himself with one hand on a cocked hip. Probably a mistake, but he hadn’t actually denied the accusation of recklessness.

It took everything he had not to break his stance when Stephen did as invited and dragged his gaze down Tony’s body, and then back up. Damn it, why did he do this to himself?

“I believe that’s my work I’m looking at,” he smirked.

“Such an asshole,” Tony grumbled.

The pair stood in comfortable silence for a time, but Tony couldn’t linger forever.

“Thanks, I guess,” he said, tightening his grip on his bag. “For…everything.”

The alpha’s sharp gaze softened. “Good luck.”

Tony turned and made his way down the steps and out toward the rest of the city, having declined transportation or an escort. He knew where he was headed and it would be good to get a feel for his new home.

He only looked back once, at the base of the stairs.

A bald woman had joined Stephen, dressed in rich yellow robes with strange and elaborate layers and folds. She stood with her arms behind her back, and her attention made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He immediately faced forward and tried not to noticeably quicken his pace.

Tony had only seen her once when he was a child, and the handful of drawings he’d seen since had never done her justice.

That was the Sorcerer Supreme. And he did not want to draw her interest.

*

Tony did find a cheap room that first day near where most of the forges were located, and space in a forge within a couple of days. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing with anyone, and some of his more specialist projects he hoped to get to in the future would require very late nights. But he got along fairly well with his…forge-mate? Neighbor. That sounded better.

By fairly well, he meant that they rarely talked or interacted unless necessary. Which was fine. Totally fine. Some people just didn’t like to talk when they were working. Or at all. Not to mention it was admittedly difficult to converse over the deafening sound of a hammer working the metal.

Probably a good thing, since it meant Tony’s habit of talking to himself on occasion would go unnoticed.

Unfortunately, what Tony had forgotten to calculate for were blacksmiths who worked with magic. Somehow. The product of a country where magic was a common subject taught in schools, as opposed to Tony’s kingdom where magic wasn’t even talked about if it could be helped.

He wasn’t jealous, but it did look like his first several months were going to be even slower than he had anticipated. Money was going to be even tighter than expected, and he would have to be very careful with his food purchases. Thankfully, he had learned the basics of cooking with all of that time trying to find a way to repay the herders.

It did mean that he only knew how to cook over open flames. But at least the forge smelled a bit more appealing than just hot metal.

Also thankfully, one of his neighbors had taken pity on him and was teaching him how to make a few basic meals, some of which didn’t even need a heat source.

His trips to the market were some of the best parts of his days. Not only could he see what sort of metalwork was popular, he was fascinated by everything else that the market stalls had to offer. He hadn’t exactly gotten out much beyond the castle back home, and Kamar-Taj’s culture and climate were very different.

Tony could also glean quite a bit of information if he kept his ears open for gossip. Apparently attacks by bandits and brigands were becoming more common near the borders. It relieved Tony a bit that his presence likely wasn’t to blame for the attack he was caught up in.

But it also made him wonder why. What they were after. They weren’t attacking border guards, or the rare tiny settlement. Instead, it seemed that it was the roving groups of nomadic herders that suffered the most.

Tony knew firsthand that they didn’t carry anything particularly valuable. Nothing that bandits would be interested in, unless he was missing something to do with magic. Powerful relics or something. But considering that the native gossipers seemed confused as well…

Was it some sort of strategy? Someone behind it? His first thought was Obadiah, especially considering the presence of his weapons. But he couldn’t think what Obadiah would gain from it. More likely they had just been sold his weapons, and that was it.

Besides, there were also whispers of a former Master – one that was a possible candidate for Sorcerer Supreme – going rogue. Kaecilius. They didn’t say traitor or treason, but they didn’t have to. And Tony was not so foolish as to prod for more information. Not on such a sensitive topic, when he was still rather obviously a foreigner.

What did he know of the politics or strategies of this country, anyway? What would the information mean to him? Whatever reason this Kaecilius had for the random attacks – if it was him – the guards and other Masters would know better than he did.

But his weapons… And he had his armor…

He practiced flying in his armor sometimes, late at night when it was cloudy enough to conceal him. But most of his energy these days went into establishing his business. He’d done his best to get an idea of what people needed or were looking for in terms of tools, and tried to advertise his skills in repairing any sort of metalwork.

His first customer had looked rather dubious. But the old man had gamely handed over a broken – and, in Tony’s opinion, rather ugly – statuette for repair.

His expression when he’d returned for it two days later was very gratifying. The strangely thoughtful look, on the other hand, had reminded him of the reaction of Heema of the nomadic herders, who had been the first one then to go to him with something to repair.

Tony still wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Whatever it was, at least his first customer appeared to be spreading the word. More people trickled in, looking for repairs, or kitchen knives, or even asking for plow parts and the odd horseshoe. The most common transactions, of course, were for nails or wire. The most necessary, and the most mind-numbingly boring to make.

The rare requests for swords or daggers, he recommended them to weaponsmiths. He couldn’t bring himself to create weapons right now, and maybe not ever again.

“Ready for a break?” a familiar voice rumbled from the doorway as Tony set down his tools and wiped the sweat from his face.

Tony turned and tried to tone down his delight.

Contrary to his expectations, Stephen had come looking to see him. Only a few weeks after customers had begun to trickle in, the healer had turned up with an elaborate pendant in need of repair. He’d even asked permission to remain and watch him work on it, and then settled on a stool with a book retrieved from what looked like a hidden pocket in his robe, and an apple from a pouch on his hip.

It had taken Tony longer than usual to become immersed in his work. The alpha’s sharp gaze on his back had his skin prickling and his senses rather distracted.

But he’d settled down without too much difficulty. His focus narrowed down to the metal he crafted with his hands, to its potential that he could see just as clearly as if it was written in words on a page. He sometimes thought that he’d been born to invent and to work a forge, just the same as he’d been born a prince.

“Just about,” he said with a smile. “Come on in.” Now that he had a somewhat steady income, he could indulge occasionally. And he did enjoy walking the market and sampling food stalls when Stephen stopped by to visit.

His customer base had actually been growing more quickly than he’d expected. Much of which had started after Stephen’s commission. Tony suspected that the alpha had been doing some promoting of his own, but he hadn’t known how to bring it up.

Now he glanced over at his neighboring smith, Iloosha, who was occupied with his own project. He had reacted rather strangely the first couple of times that Stephen had shown up, but had eventually returned to pretending that his side of the building had been partitioned off by a wall. It seemed that Stephen’s status as royal healer had been more well-known than Tony realized. Maybe people just reacted strangely to those they thought kept company with rulers.

Tony chattered, arms waving expressively as they walked side by side. Today was one of Stephen’s reticent days, where he seemed to lack the energy to do more than listen intently. The prince suspected that meant that he had been defending against raids near the border again, but the other was very tight-lipped about what was happening. So Tony filled in the silence with whatever came to his mind, from projects to gossip to random complaints, and hoped he helped. Stephen kept coming to him, so that must mean he helped, right?

Tony’s biggest complaint that he tried not to dwell on was his lack of funds. He was just breaking even, which was honestly amazing for having only been working for several months. But he had so many ideas he was used to acting on almost immediately. Now he had to save every penny and hope for a future where he could afford the materials to experiment in the ways he wished to.

Call him spoiled, but patience just wasn’t his strong suit.

It was by chance that the next time Tony visited the market a large crowd was gathered at the end where the palace was located.

“What’s going on?” he asked the person next to him as he craned his head. He could see the Sorcerer Supreme standing on the platform, while some sort of herald just below her was using magic to make himself heard clearly.

“Some sort of festival announcement,” they responded absently.

Tony paused to listen more closely. Not a festival, a tournament. Which was fairly uncommon, as he’d come to understand. Kamar-Taj tended toward festivals, which were much more likely to include elaborate displays for people to show off, rather than mock battles.

The mention of prize money caught the inventor’s interest. Additional funds would be welcome if he could get them, and with his armor he stood a chance. He’d just need to grab a flier to figure out where he might qualify and what the rules were.

One of the figures standing behind the Sorcerer Supreme caught his attention. Dressed in brightly colored robes, elaborately embroidered, he wouldn’t have stood out to Tony if not for the square of fabric that completely hid his face, held in place by some sort of hood. A veil? If veils were opaque. How did he – or she, he supposed – even see? Did they use magic? That seemed like a bit of a waste.

“Who’s that?” he bothered the person next to him. “In the back with the veil-thing.”

“That is Master Strange. Along with Masters Mordo, Hamir, and Minoru, they are the current potential successors.”

“But Master Strange is the only one with his face covered? How come?”

“He prefers to wear all parts of the traditional ceremonial garments, I suppose,” they said with a shrug, body language closing off in an unspoken demand to leave them alone.

Tony raised an eyebrow and let it go.

Later that night he examined the flier with all of the tournament information. As good as he was with a sword, he had no delusions about going up against people who made a career of it. It wouldn’t feel right to enter the civilian bracket, and it seemed that there was no middle ground there.

On the other hand, his armor might qualify him for magical battle, but he himself could not use magic. It seemed a bad idea to pitch himself in a sorcerer’s battle when he still wasn’t sure what magics his armor would be vulnerable to.

At last, Tony landed upon the augmented melee freeform event. No enchantments or active spellcasting allowed. Perfect. His armor wasn’t enchanted, after all, but the celestial properties should give him a serious edge over the other combatants. He’d start out with a blunted sword, of course, and do his best there. His repulsors could come out the instant he lost it, though he thought he’d keep the flying a secret.

*

Tournament day dawned bright and clear. Tony arrived, jittery with both nerves and anticipation, almost bouncing on his toes. He admitted, he might have been a bit too smug at being cleared for his event. But the marshals’ rolled eyes and condescension – _oh look, here’s another one that thinks they can fool the magics and sneak in with enchanted armor_ – was very satisfying to watch drop into disbelief when he did not, in fact, set off the security spell. It was almost worth the way several of them gathered around, double- and triple-checking with a several different spells and artifacts to absolutely confirm that he had no enchantments on him whatsoever.

Since the melee wouldn’t take place until later in the day, Tony hung around and watched the other events. He didn’t know if any of them would be fighting melee too, but he paid attention to anyone who stood out and tried to take note of their fighting style.

Honestly, a lot of it was boring, except for the magic brackets. Although that was probably because he still found magic to be rare and exciting, thanks to it being forbidden for most of his life.

His nerves surged back to life when melee participants were called forth. Tony jumped to his feet and bounced a bit as he followed everyone onto the designated field. He stretched as best as he could, trying to loosen up as he listened to the herald outline the rules and expectations.

His heart raced, fingers clenching around the hilt of his sword. He took a slow, deep breath.

The horn sounded.

In an instant, it was chaos. A blur of dull grey and the deafening clash of metal. It was almost worse than the raid on the herders, except no one was aiming to kill here.

There was no time to think, only react, and Tony almost wished he’d practiced more diligently with a sword. He lost it faster than expected, with a flash of panic and embarrassment.

Then he started using elbows and fists, even kicks to try to get some distance as bodies crowded far too close. Interspersed through it all, of course, were the blasts of power from his gauntlets, slamming adversaries away from him or down into the ground.

The prince was a whirl of barely controlled panic and calculation, moving on autopilot without truly registering what was happening around him. He couldn’t have said how long the battle lasted, only that it felt like a lifetime and yet seemed to end in an instant.

One moment he was gasping for breath and forcing leaden limbs to move as opponent after opponent confronted him, sometimes ganging up on him and sometimes just trying to wear him down individually.

The next, he stood alone in the open air, armored bodies groaning on the ground or surrendering to the side. It felt like an instant stretched into an hour as he stood with arms still at the ready, trembling with adrenaline and exhaustion and wondering where the next opponent was.

“And the winner is Iron Man!” the Grand Marshall shouted.

After a moment of reorientation, Tony grinned behind his helm, chest heaving as he gasped for breath. He rode the high of adrenaline, of victory, and he felt giddy with it. He could barely hear the cheers of the crowd for the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

He scanned the spectators again, as he had been doing since he’d first arrived. He searched for even a hint of Stephen’s usual blue as he stumbled thoughtlessly behind the Grand Marshal towards the section dedicated to the victors in front of the royal box. He was going to crash hard when this was over, but right now he felt amazing. The prize money was going to make it even better. He had a number of potential plans, and he was excited to decide on a direction now that the funds were within his grasp.

It would be even better if Stephen had been watching. It was crowded enough that he could easily miss him.

And it didn’t help that his gaze was continuously drawn back to the figure in the traditional successor robes. The veil and the robes that covered every inch of skin turned Master Strange into a mystery his curious mind itched to solve. He wanted to ask how he could even see to move without bumping into anyone or anything. In spite of his best intentions, that would probably even be the first thing out of his mouth should they actually come face to face. Face to veil.

Tony thought it was probably best that a meeting was extremely unlikely to happen. Whether as a blacksmith or prince.

Then he at last took notice of the guests seated within the royal box, and his heart stopped. The blood drained from his face, and he could only praise the gods that he was still hidden within his armor and had used a pseudonym to enter the tournament.

Obadiah.

The announcer motioned for him to take off his helm as he approached the victors’ section.

Tony declined. He hadn’t been sure if he would reveal himself or not before noticing his former regent. No chance in hell he would do so now.

_Does he know it’s me?_ Tony wondered, swallowing hard. _Why is he here?_

Stark Kingdom avoided interacting with Kamar-Taj when possible, especially in person. Surely he couldn’t have known the prince was hiding here. How could he?

Pushing down his panic, he accepted the prize money by rote. His entire focus was on examining Obadiah for any hint of recognition. The older man had never seen his armor, he was sure. But he had seen the gem embedded in his chest at least once, and now he wished he’d figured out some sort of covering for it. He had thought it enough to disguise it as part of his chest plate, but he should have accounted for people who had seen or heard of what he had done to save himself.

Plus, who else had the skill to forge armor of celestial properties? Maybe it wouldn’t have been obvious in melee combat, but Obadiah did know his weapons. And he was the one who had set the terms and conditions of the bet that preceded its creation. He might be able to recognize the properties of the impossible weapons that had been forged for his judgement.

Fuck. There was no way Tony was getting out of this undiscovered. Obadiah might not be sure, but he would absolutely hire people to find him and confirm.

The remainder of the day was a bit of a blur. As soon as he could sneak away, Tony stored his armor and took a circuitous route to his forge just in case anyone was following. Thankfully Iloosha appeared to be out celebrating. The forges were cold, so he wouldn’t be back until the next day.

Tony paced, eyes darting around his workspace. He could run. It wasn’t a bad idea to do so. But how long could he run? How long should he?

Maybe it would be best to confront this. Confront him. Now, when he had people on his side and the advantage of his territory being unfamiliar to his foe. Maybe it was better not to let Obadiah become any more entrenched. Any more powerful.

But his heat… His heat was approaching _again_ , except this time it was his annual true heat. He knew he’d taken a risk of triggering it when he’d entered the tournament. Had Obadiah timed his arrival deliberately? How? He couldn’t know when exactly his heat would be, and he couldn’t know that he would find Tony within that timeframe. Even if it was vague rumors of his armor from the battle in the hills that had drawn him.

He couldn’t run. He couldn’t draw this out, because this heat was going to put him down for far too long and he didn’t have a safe place to retreat to. Not when he was being hunted.

It had to end. As soon as possible.

Tony adjusted the position of a figurine that had been traded to him by one of his customers. It was enchanted to warn him when danger was near.

Then he dressed again in his armor, hid the glow of his chest, and set himself in a corner to wait.

It was a long wait, and boring. His mind skipped and spun in circles as he worried for Stephen even safe in the palace, and worried for his neighbors if whatever assassins no doubt hunted him had gone to his rented rooms first. There was a reason he had gone to his forge instead. No one else should be around to get caught in the crossfire.

Tony thought it was a few hours after moonrise when the elephant figurine shifted its trunk, grew tusks, and glowed a menacing red that he had been assured only he could see. He strained his ears for even a hint of sound, eyes wide to capture any movement.

There was a faint scuff on the floor to his left, and his muscles wound even tighter. Then a clink as they bumped against his scattered tools and scraps.

Tony’s hand was up and firing the instant he calculated the intruder’s position. He cursed when they dove out of the way, and again when a glimmer of magic bloomed out of the corner of his eye.

He dodged as the second person stabbed forward with an ethereal blade, and brought both hands up to shoot.

A burning whip wrapped around one hand, yanking him off balance and his repulsors shot wildly. Tony struggled to hold his ground, and managed to shift his position enough that the strange blade the second wielded skidded along his armor instead of sticking in a vulnerable joint.

The muffled exclamation of surprise was a good sign that they were not expecting it. Which meant that they hadn’t seen how resistant his armor was to most spells in the tournament, or hadn’t believed it.

But they were coming again, and the first assassin was shockingly strong, or else some other magic was in play. He couldn’t free himself, and he was very close to being pulled in like a landed fish. And gutted by their partner.

Tony lowered his center of gravity, dropped into a seated position on the ground with his legs straight in front of him, leaned back as far as he could go, and then activated his boots.

It was hard to see what was happening in the dark and the chaos, but the exclamations of shock and pain, and the splintering of wood as they all crashed through the wall was a good indication.

The magic flickered out, and Tony rolled to his feet. He was the only one to do so.

His two attackers were limp on the ground. He approached cautiously, repulsors at the ready. Just as he was about to bend down to see if they were still alive, something slammed into his back in a loud crashing of metal.

He tumbled down with a yell and kicked out wildly, trying desperately to free himself. Hands – metal hands – were clawing at his chest. At the gem in his chest. Frightened and desperate, Tony attempted to activate it like he did the gauntlets and boots.

A wide beam of light shot from it. The weight on top of him disappeared as his attacker yelled. Limbs weak and breath short – from his unusual use of the starstone and not the attack, he thought – Tony scrambled to his feet.

“What-“ he gasped breathlessly. “What?”

A crude armor, obviously modeled after his, stood before him. The chest piece was set with a stone that glowed with amber magic, tinged with bruise purple and, somehow, black. And if he looked closer, he could see something like slender veins of that same glow crawling towards the gauntlets and boots.

One hand drew back the visor, and the face behind it was no surprise.

“Hello, Anthony.” He heard the suppressed rage, the danger in that voice.

“Obadiah,” he sneered in disdain, with a confidence he didn’t feel. “How did you manage to come up with that knock-off armor?”

“This?” said a new voice. Amused and controlled, the assurance in the man that stepped into the moonlight triggered a shiver of fear. His eyes seemed set within black pits, and a symbol that Tony couldn’t quite look at glowed malignantly on his forehead. There was power in that sorcerer’s aura, and Tony knew that he was outmatched. He knew Obadiah, knew his weaknesses, but this was a stranger and two on one besides. “This little omega is the one you had such trouble with?”

“Making deals with the devil, Obie?” Tony interrupted. He took a chance, flipping up his faceplate so that his peripheral vision was unobscured. He couldn’t afford any surprises when he was outnumbered. “I guess you’ve always been too lazy and incompetent to do your own dirty work.”

His answering smile was more like a baring of teeth, and Tony knew that he could never let the regent get his hands on him. He would not be walking away whole and unbroken.

One armored hand gestured to himself. “What do you call this, my boy? And oh,” he pulled down his visor, “I am going to enjoy this.”

A burning whip of magic suddenly curled around Obadiah’s armored neck and propelled him into the sorcerer, who sent him flying away before contact with a flick of his wrist.

Tony’s heart beat wildly, sliding immediately into a more solid defensive stance. Despite the illogic, he was expecting one of the assassins to have woken. Instead, Stephen of all people stalked out of the shadows.

“I don’t think you are,” he growled, hands glowing as the dark armored form pushed itself to its feet. His concentration, however, was centered on the other sorcerer. Though Tony noticed that Stephen’s gaze kept darting over to him, and he clenched his teeth as he began to grow aroused. “Tony,” he breathed when he reached his side.

The dark sorcerer was beginning to look more wary, narrowed eyes focused on Stephen.

“Yeah?” the prince murmured, deciding it was best to keep his own focus on Obadiah.

“Prince Anthony of Stark. Tony. My Tony.”

“Your – “ But something about what he said and the way he said it caused the puzzle pieces to snap into place. Thoughts and observations he hadn’t allowed himself to think on, hopes he hadn’t allowed himself to consider because it should have been impossible. “Stephen?” he murmured blankly.

Not Stephen the healer. Stephen the sorcerer. Stephen the alpha.

His Stephen. His childhood friend. His thought-dead childhood friend.

The sorcerer shot a blast of magic at the pair that Stephen instantly shielded as Tony slammed down his faceplate. “As interesting as this is, Master Strange, I have no desire to linger.”

Tony’s view of Stephen was still reorienting, so this new information regarding his position as potential successor, while shocking, didn’t send him reeling again. It did, however, further distract him from desperately attempting to block out his heat symptoms. He felt slick gathering between his legs as he began to sweat inside his armor. His thoughts grew unfocused, before he wrenched himself back to the situation at hand.

_Master. Master of Kamar-Taj_.

“Yes,” Stephen said. Tony hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud. “I – ” He broke off, and the pair dove to the side as the ground heaved beneath their feet.

“Why are you even helping him, anyway?!” Tony shouted at the sorcerer – Kaecilius, he assumed. He was frustrated and angry and he just wanted it all to fucking stop so that he could hole himself up somewhere and ride out his heat without people trying to trap or kill him. “What could he possibly offer you?

“I get that you’re probably offering him some way into the country,” Tony was rambling, thinking out loud and remembering the attacks that were almost always concentrated along the border, and the history that demonstrated that all invading forces faced incredibly bad luck if they even managed to cross the mountains at all, “guiding an army or something, but that’s probably just a side effect of whatever you’re trying to do. Maybe even with magic assistance or whatever, but even if it doesn’t cost you much, you don’t seem like the type to give something away for free.”

“As clever as he claimed and not quite as gullible as he thinks, it seems. But I’m not gullible either. I’m hardly about to just tell you my plans,” Kaecilius said.

Tony and Stephen exchanged a glance as Obadiah advanced. Tony stepped forward to intercept him while Stephen tried to herd Kaecilius away. Working on an assumption, Tony managed to coax his traitorous godfather into flight. Distracted as he was, he only noticed that Stephen had managed to portal himself and his opponent away after they had gone.

It felt almost like a game of aerial tag. Except the end result would be death for one of them. Obadiah was a little clumsier, more heavily built and having less practice than Tony, who had taken the time to push himself in practice flights. The darker armor was also not as efficient, but the magic made up for it and increased his power.

And Tony was also hindered by his oncoming heat. He was distracted too easily, his mind wanting to descend into an aroused haze. It was how Obadiah managed to catch him at last, outside of the city. Grasping onto a limb, he wrenched it and managed to get a solid grip on Tony as he shouted in pain.

They tumbled toward through the air, spinning until Tony couldn’t tell what which way was up. He grasped desperately for the ugly light in Obadiah’s chest, the only thing he could see with any clarity. Terrified and disgusted by the instinctive desire to submit, to hang limp and spread himself beneath the larger, stronger man, he dug his fingers into edges of the stone and shot a continuous, overpowered stream into it point blank.

Obadiah roared, but Tony couldn’t hear him over his desperation and the wind. Something cracked – magic or stone, Tony didn’t know. The other man flailed and gravity took over. Tony shoved himself away and shot up just in time, as Obadiah hit the ground with a cracking thud.

He waited, shaking and breathing hard within his armor. But the lights in the dark armor blinked out, and he didn’t stir.

A few minutes passed before Tony hesitantly landed on the ground. He meant to check for signs of life. Instead, he found himself backing up. He couldn’t stop watching, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop putting distance between them either.

He didn’t know how long he waited. His temperature rose, slick trickling down his legs now, and an empty, aching feeling growing. His heat was on him, and he had probably just killed his treasonous regent.

Tony didn’t know what to feel. Except a little ill, as his arousal slowly intensified despite the situation.

He wanted Stephen.

And then, in a burning circle of gold, Stephen was there.

His Stephen.

Tony sagged, a sense of security and safety washing over him. And desire.

“-got away,” the sorcerer was saying as he looked him over for any obvious injures, and then gestured some sort of spell towards where Obadiah lay. “I doubt he’ll be back any time soon, but we should return to the city quickly, just in case.”

“Store armor,” Tony said clearly.

Stephen blinked, and looked intrigued at the acorn pendant. “That’s my magic. I didn’t even sense it in all that time because of that.” He cut off, eyes widening and pupils dilating as he registered the scent of an omega in heat.

“Stephen,” Tony purred as a wave of arousal swept through his body. He shuddered, growing harder as he slipped closer to the alpha. He pressed against him, baring his neck and sliding his arms over Stephen’s shoulders as trembling hands automatically clutched his hips. He nuzzled under the taller man’s jaw. “Please,” he breathed. “Please, I need you.”

Stephen groaned, fingers tightening. “Tony,” he hissed. “Wait. We need to talk – “

“Later,” Tony interrupted, barely aware of what he was saying. All that existed was this alpha. His alpha. And all he could think about was being beneath him, surrounded by him, filled with him. “We can talk later.”

Stephen leaned back, ignoring Tony’s cry of protest. His long, scarred fingers cradled Tony’s face. “If we do this, you need to be lucid first. Do I have your permission to work magic on you?”

“Yes, whatever you want, yes, just please – “

He didn’t notice the conflicted expression on Stephen’s face. But he did notice the sudden chill of those hands on his face, a chill that spread through his head as though he’d dunked it in a barrel of cool water.

Tony gasped, the heat haze lifting. He was still hard, still leaking slick and overheated, but he could _think_ again. “Oh.”

“Let’s take this to my rooms, and we can talk there. Or elsewhere if you would feel more comfortable.”

“Oh, uh. Your rooms would be fine.” He trusted Stephen. Was elated that his Stephen lived, that he had grown into this man that stood before him. That they were finally together.

Thinking clearly and able to give permission, he found that he wanted even more for this alpha to help him through his heat.

But a seed of doubt, a feeling of betrayal, was taking root, no matter how he tried to ignore it.

Stephen nodded and then guided him through the subsequent portal with a hand on the small of his back. Tony subconsciously leaned into it.

They were silent and facing each other when the portal closed, the darkness gently lit with magical lights.

“I thought you were dead,” Tony said at last.

Stephen winced. He made a move as if to reach out, and then aborted it.

“I mourned you for years, Stephen,” Tony whispered, as if he could hardly bear to say it out loud. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy that you’re alive. But I thought…” His breath caught. “I thought I meant enough that you would at least…send a note or… Just something to let me know that the bandits hadn’t killed you too. Even if you didn’t want to see me again.”

“Tony, no,” Stephen blurted out. He seemed unable to stop himself from reaching out to embrace him tightly.

Tony buried his red face in Stephen’s chest, embarrassed to have his obvious erection once more pressing into the sorcerer’s thigh. It didn’t matter how natural the reaction was for an omega in heat. He hadn’t exactly shared a true heat before, and thanks to the magic he was able to think much too clearly about how his body was reacting.

“Tony, please believe me. I never wanted to leave you. Never.”

He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, and Tony stood acquiescent and quiet as he waited. He wanted there to be a good reason. A forgivable one.

Stephen’s arms tightened as he began to speak again. “You obviously found out about the raid on the caravan. I was badly injured and apparently close to death – it’s also how my hands were so badly mangled – but I was saved. Barely.

“The Sorcerer Supreme has a particular talent for divination and related time magics. She had seen a vision of me in that attack, knew that I had the potential to be her successor, and got to me just in time to save my life. Though I was told that it was touch and go. I spent weeks in a coma, and when I finally woke up I suffered from retrograde amnesia on top of all of my other injuries.

“I’m still not entirely certain that I recovered all of my memories, though I suppose it doesn’t matter. But it was about…hmm…a year, maybe, when I remembered you.”

Tony hummed in acknowledgement, and didn’t move except to squeeze him back.

“I was desperate to at least send word to you, if not visit in person.

“The Sorcerer Supreme refused.

“Suffice to say, I was furious. I was fully prepared to head off on my own and defy anyone to stop me. By then I’d been learning magic almost since I woke, and I felt fully qualified to defend myself against anyone and anything, even without having fully recovered.” Stephen’s tone was rueful and a touch embarrassed at his childish arrogance.

“I didn’t want to listen, but she stopped me and forced me to pay attention when she explained her reasons.”

Stephen pressed his lips to Tony’s forehead. He sighed.

“She said that if I went to see you, if I tried to contact you at all, that you would end up dead.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to look up yet. _And you just believed her? Just like that?_ He wasn’t sure what to feel.

“I denied it,” Stephen continued. “I called her…oh, many names, I’m ashamed to say. I didn’t really believe her precognition. Or, I didn’t put much stock in it, shall we say. Even if there was danger, I was sure that I could prevent your death.

“She had to show me, in the end, before I would stop trying to reach you. Not just one future, but many. Many variations, many choices, some lasting longer than others, but all ended with you dead. Killed within a handful of years, even if I stayed away and only sent a single note.

“After seeing that, I could never risk you. And she assured me that one day, you would find me. I only had to wait long enough.”

“And here I am,” Tony said, tears in his eyes as he leaned back to look up at Stephen. _His_ Stephen, truly, he now knew. He couldn’t quite grasp his churning feelings, and it didn’t fix everything. Logic had never controlled emotions.

But he could forgive. He did forgive.

And he loved. He knew it now, more clearly than ever. No more lying to himself, no more ignoring it. He’d loved Stephen since they were children, and he’d fallen in love again.

He thought – hoped – Stephen felt that way too.

“Here you are,” Stephen echoed softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I understand. I would have done the same, too. You didn’t know it was me, though?”

“I thought maybe I was seeing similarities because I wanted to, not because they were actually there. And that spell that hangs around your neck, I didn’t even notice it because it was my own magical signature and I tend to tune it out. Although it does explain some of the comments certain people have said to me…

“Plus, it never even occurred to me that you might have magic.”

Tony jerked. “Wait, what? No I don’t.”

Stephen blinked at him. Then he chuckled, slightly incredulous and mostly amused. “Not in the traditional sense, but you do infuse magic into your creations. Do you really think anyone else could have created that incredible armor you use? Didn’t you notice when your customers began to bring you magic items for repair?”

Tony just stared at him, dumbfounded. “How would I? You _know_ I’m from a place where magic is barely spoken of, never mind taught about.”

“Well, I do _now,_ sir blacksmith of Sheillaven.”

“Oh. Right. Point.” He winced.

“Besides, surely your secondary gender was a clue,” the sorcerer leaned down to rumble into his ear, “ _Omega_.”

Tony shuddered, abruptly reminded of the state of his body. Okay, now Stephen was just being an asshole.

“Alright, that’s something to deal with later. _Much_ later. Right now, I want you to kiss me, lift that spell, and then knot me until I can’t remember my name.”

When Stephen only stared at him, wide-eyed, Tony began to feel a bit self-conscious. He hunched in a little in his uncertainty. “Unless you don’t want…?”

He was interrupted by a kiss, fierce, possessive, and overwhelming. The prince gave as good as he got, clinging tightly and losing track of anything except Stephen in his arms.

“I love you,” Stephen whispered when their lips parted.

“Alpha, please,” Tony whimpered. Repercussions, consequences, whatever else needed doing could be dealt with later.

There was a fleeting touch to his temples, and then Tony was swept away by his heat and his alpha.


End file.
